Heartlines
by The Girl on Fiendfyre
Summary: -and what good is a heart if all it does is hurt? Clove and Cato's struggle to survive after the 74th Hunger Games. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

I stare out towards the Cornucopia, "I want to be the one to kill her."

Cato scoffs, "-and why should you get to do it? Let's just go together. Safety in numbers, y'know?"

"I'll make it a good show," I promise eagerly, and in the back of my mind, I acknowledge I sound both bloodthirsty and unhinged. Maybe I am. All I know is that Everdeen has survived using flashy dresses and Lover Boy's affections long enough. I have given my whole life to these Games, and some part of me resents her for not having as miserable a childhood as me. Cato and I can go home and be happy for once in our lives, and the prospect has me itching to end these games once and for all.

Cato sighs, "Please Clove? You're tired, and…." The change in his tone is the only thing that causes me to pause. I'm still getting used to the fact that maybe Cato and I can be together, and it makes me feel awkward- like I'm afraid that any wrong movements will break this fantasy.

Only Cato can get away with hinting that I'm weak. "Fine," I relent. I peck his cheek because I can't help it. "We'll go together. Let's get this show on the road." I am not looking forward to killing teenagers, but putting on a good face for the Capitol always comes in handy.

Sometimes I worry that the face I put on for the Capitol is the real me.

.

We walk to the Feast in a comfortable silence, but before we reach the clearing, Cato holds me back and turns me to face him. He brushes his lips against mine, and I immediately respond. He twines his fingers into my hair, and cradles my face with his other hand. I kiss back aggressively, but his lips are set on a slow, almost gentle pace. Then, when I'm almost melting into his arms, he pulls back. He trains his eyes on me, drinking me in while I gasp for air. "For luck," he says lightly, but his smile doesn't meet his eyes.

Before I have time to reply, I see Ginger burst from the Cornucopia, pick up her pack, and sprint into the forest. The next second, I see Everdeen run to the Cornucopia. It's time. I throw Cato one last grin and order him to go after Redhead before I take off after Everdeen. "Do this right, and we'll be victors tonight!"

I chuck one of my best knives at Everdeen, but she somehow deflects it with her bow._ Huh_. In the back of my mind, I'm impressed, but right now I'm more upset that she's not dead. She shoots an arrow at me in retaliation- and maybe Cato is right, I must be getting tired because I barely react in time to dodge it. The arrow hits me in the arm, and now I'm pissed.

I stop to rip out of my arm, and when I look up again, Everdeen already has her hand on the 12 pack. Dammit, she's fast. I launch another knife, but she must have a thick skull, because it only slices her forehead open. Still, it slows her down, and I take the opportunity to tackle her to the ground.

Now I've got her pinned down to the ground, and it should be an easy kill, but I'm inexplicably seized with panic. I've never killed someone at this close-range. I try to buy time so I can get the strength to kill her. I'm not proud- I say some pretty cruel things- I even punch her in the throat, which is a bitch move. I finally get the courage to kill her when she spits in my face. In an adrenaline-fueled frenzy for bloodlust, I push my knife to the edge of her mouth.

Suddenly, I feel dark arms grab me from behind. Thresh. I am lifted high off the ground by my neck, and I feel panic set in. I forgot about Thresh. He throws me to the ground like a pathetic rag doll, and my head smacks against the ground.

"What'd you do to that little girl? You kill her?" I am genuinely confused for a second, disoriented from my fall, but then I remember his little district partner. Fuck. For all the things he could kill me for, for all the heartless acts I have committed, he picks one I am actually not responsible for. _Irony's a bitch isn't it Clove?_

I scramble backwards on all fours. "No! No, it wasn't me!"

"You said her name. I heard you. You kill her? You cut her up like you were going to cut this girl here?"

"No! No, I- Cato! Cato!" I am disgusted with how screechy my voice sounds, but where is he?

"Clove!" I hear his voice approaching, but it might not be close enough. I can feel my mind getting fuzzier.

My head is pounding from the fall, and my vision's blurry, but I can see Thresh approaching with a rock. I feel tears spring from my eyes, I've never felt so weak and helpless. My head is screaming in pain, I am getting groggier and groggier, and I squeeze my eyes shut in defeat.

Before I black out completely, I hear a thud and a cannon boom. For a second, I am paralyzed by the possibility that I am dead, but I realize the cannon is for Thresh. Cato has appeared out of nowhere, and has decapitated him.

I hear a scuffle, and my eyes focus enough to see Cato slit Everdeen's throat. One part of me is relieved that we are that much closer to victory and home. But another part, the part that the Capitol hasn't polluted, the part that I have tried to keep quiet my whole life, quietly mourns another two young lives lost.

I am suddenly covered by Cato's shadow as he squats next to me. "All right there, Clove?"

Damn him. I can practically hear his smirk. I rasp back, "I had that under control."- which is a complete lie, but he'll never know.

"Bull shit," he shoots back. However, he grows more serious and strokes my face with the back of his hand, "You really scared me there Clove. Don't ever run off like that again."

Cato only ever uses that voice around me. I think it means that he cares. This makes me smile a little as I push myself into a sitting position. But my splitting headache reappears, and makes me wince. Suddenly, Cato's arms cradle me against his chest. I want to roll my eyes at him, but the thudding in my head prevents me from doing anything other than moan.

He pushes back the hair from my face, and I simultaneously wince and lean into his hand. "Just rest for a bit Clove." I close my eyes, but a smile creeps onto my face at his gentle voice. Even in the face of brain damage, the fact that I am the only one who can turn Cato into a sappy sweetheart is not lost on me.

"Quit it," he orders, sensing my smugness. Nevertheless, he continues to stroke my hair with a careful hand, and I let myself fall asleep for a few minutes.

.

I wake up to another cannon boom, and I snap into a semi-defensive position. My head's still ringing, but it's better than before. "Cato?" I call out nervously. It's darker now, and I have to squint before I realize I am inside the Cornucopia. And Cato is nowhere to be found.

I scramble up, ignoring the pain in my head, and call out his name again, this time more urgently. I stumble out of the Cornucopia, calling his name, until I spot him emerging from the forest. Relief floods over me, and I struggle to keep my emotions in check.

He strides over to me with that smirk of his. "You miss me Princess?"

I roll my eyes, "Please. I just thought you were dead, that's all."

He just gives me a knowing look. "Sure. But I'm pretty sure that was Lover Boy. The Twelve pack had medicine for him, and he never got it."

I nod, and try to keep my face free of emotion. Sure Lover Boy was pathetic, but he didn't deserve to die. None of them did. "That just leaves Redhead then?" I reply with a business-like tone that I'm impressed I can manage.

Cato looks at me for a few seconds, studying me, and I squirm under his gaze. "Yeah. The Gamemakers will probably push us closer together though- no point in going to look for her."

We walk back to the Cornucopia, and he hands me some berries he's scavenged. "Hopefully, Enobaria will send us some more food. I'm not really good at finding food."

I awkwardly pat his hand in a reassuring way. "We weren't taught how to scavenge at the academies. You can't be good at everything."

"I'm not good at _everything_-the only thing I'm really good at is killing. The Games kept me from learning much else…sometimes I wonder if we'd be better without them."

I start. Saying things like that could be potentially dangerous. What really makes me uncomfortable though is that Cato has just voiced my own treacherous thoughts.

I look over at him, and he doesn't seem to even realize the gravity of what he just said. He just continues to stare out of the mouth of the Cornucopia. Something in his eyes speaks of a broken, scared boy. It makes me want to comfort him. _Keep it together Clove._

I ignore my conscience, and inch myself closer to him.

**Author's Note: Hey guys, sorry for reposting, but I just reread this chapter, and there were some grammatical errors that really irked me. So sorry about that. **

**So this is obviously one of the many Clato fanfics dealing with an alternate universe where they survive. Hopefully I have kept it at least semi-realistic, and not too mushy. I have recently become addicted to the prospect of Clato. I blame Alexander Ludwig and the lovely Isabelle Fuhrman  
**

**This is hopefully the beginning of a multi-chapter fanfiction, where I explore a Panem brought to revolution through Clove and Cato's victory. (I am totally obsessed with the fact that they have a dark-Katniss and Peeta thing going on) Also, I try to explain a Career's perspective of the Games, because they can't all be crazy. So instead, I imagine that they are forced to develop the typical bloodthirsty Career persona as a survival tactic. **

**All ranting aside, please review! Some people have already favorite the story- which is great, but they haven't reviewed [sad face] I really want some feedback (this is my first fanfiction) so help me not make a fool of myself and review! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: I've gotten so many favorites and story alerts- but only one review. Seriously guys? Weak sauce. Hopefully, another chapter will rouse some of you into action, but I'm leaving a cliffhanger, and holding the next chapter hostage until I get some reviews. It's evil, I know, and borderline Capitol behavior, but an author's got to do what an author's got to do. **

**So review! I'm begging you! **

**All shameless groveling aside, I give you Chapter 2. **

**Disclaimer: If I owned the Hunger Games franchise, I would be married to Alexander Ludwig by now.**

**Chapter 2**

I wake up from the first peaceful dream I've had since the Reaping with a start. Cato is shaking me awake, and his eyes are widened with urgency.

"What?" I slur groggily, still half-asleep. Before he can respond, the earth shakes beneath us. I am wide awake now. The Cornucopia trembles dangerously above us, and without another thought, I am on my feet and sprinting out of the Cornucopia. I look back, and to my relief, Cato is close behind me.

We run into the open field surrounding the Cornucopia and brace ourselves for the next tremor while catching our breaths. However, it never comes.

.

I look at Cato in confusion, unable to figure out the point of the earthquake. There are no cannon shots, and the clearing is peaceful- as if there had not just been a violent earthquake.

Cato, however, is skeptical. He keep his head cocked, and his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration. I am about to ask him what he thinks about the situation when I am cut off by a blood-curdling scream. Redhead.

I whip my head around in the direction of the scream, and to my horror, Redhead is being chased towards us by some large wolves. No doubt the Gamemakers have given them some sort of mutation to cause maximum damage.

I stay rooted to the spot, and it is only when Cato grabs my shoulder roughly that I collect my wits and run.

.

The Gamemakers sent that earthquake to draw me and Cato away from the Cornucopia, and this is what makes me believe that the Cornucopia is the safest spot to be right now. Unable to form words while running for my life, I point vaguely towards the golden horn instead. He seems to understand, and I hope we make it in time.

With Ginger and the mutts hot on our trails, I clamber up the side of the horn. The hot metal burns my hands, but I cling to it like it's my salvation.

Cato is having a harder time. Climbing has never been his strong suit, and he struggles to maintain a strong grip on the Cornucopia. Once I reach the top, I bend down to pull him up, but he's heavy, and I am weak from my encounter with Thresh so it takes me a while.

It takes me too long, it turns out, because one of the mutts has clamped its gigantic jaws around his leg, and Cato lets out a strangled yell. Panicked and desperate, I rally all my remaining strength, and yank him onto the Cornucopia.

Thankfully, it works, and we both collapse into a heap. His leg is mangled and bloody, but I'm sure the Capitol can fix that with ease. As I pull both of us up, and he brushes me off, I hear the sound of a third person climbing onto the Cornucopia,

.

Ginger reaches the top of the Cornucopia with relative ease. It seems Cato distracted the mutts enough to allow her to run around to the other side. Smart girl. I am mentally hitting myself for constantly underestimating the other tributes.

No matter, I can kill her easily now that I have found her. I reach for one of my knives- but with a jolt, I remember that I left my jacket inside the Cornucopia. _Stupid Clove. _

Redhead smiles. She must know that I don't have my knives. Still, I sense her anxiety- it's two against one, and there's no way her fighting skills rival mine and Cato's combined. She tries to stall, and slowly backs away from me and Cato as her gigantic eyes flick everywhere, searching for an escape route.

Cato and I share a look, and we both start to approach her from different sides. Cato talks to her in a low, reassuring voice. It's the voice he uses to lull his prey into a false sense of security.

"Just give up now. It's two against one." he murmurs seductively- and it's sick, but I get shivers up my spine when he talks like this. "Besides, two people can win this time. Wouldn't it be _noble _to die, so two can survive?"

Smart Cato, maybe she'll just jump off the Cornucopia for us. Maybe I won't have to kill another to escape this hellhole.

She just laughs. "Do you really think they'll let two tributes win? Don't you see? They're just building you two up so when you fall, it'll be a better show. And you two are falling for it."

And maybe she's just talking empty words to stall us, but the words hit me like a punch to the gut. Red notices my shock, and turns to face me.

And I could just kiss Cato, because he uses the momentary lapse in her concentration to push her off the side of the Cornucopia.

.

She falls off with a shriek, but manages to grab a hold of my ankle while she slides off. I try to shake her off, but she claws at me in a desperate bid to survive. The dead weight causes me to topple off my feet, and suddenly, I am in danger of going down with her.

In the ensuing chaos, I feel Cato keeping me from sliding off, and I kick Foxface in the face. _I'm sorry_, I try to say with my eyes when she falls off the Cornucopia and glares reproachfully up at me. _I'm sorry, but rather you than me._ The last thing she sees is my guilty face before the mutts engulf her.

.

Gratefully, the mutts make quick work of her body. There's nothing worse than a drawn-out death. I should know. I've caused many of them.

While Cato and I watch her die before our eyes, I wonder when I began to lose my thirst for blood. Was it during the Bloodbath, when I killed the girl with the sad eyes? -or was it when the Four girl, Ripple- who taught me how to throw a trident- suffocated from trackerjacker stings right in front of me? Maybe it was when I saw Marvel's face in the sky, when just that morning he helped me calm down Cato after the supplies exploded.

All I know is that I silently hope for the cannon boom to come sooner rather than later. I suddenly remember my district token, a ruby ring that I fastened to the end of my braid. It passed by the Gamemakers, who didn't realize that if I swung my head fast enough, the centrifugal force could easily crack open someone's skull.

I rip it out my hair, and chuck it at the crowd of mutts. It's a difficult shot, but I never miss, and the ring hits her skull with a resounding crack. The cannon finally booms, and next to me, I hear Cato let out a breath that I didn't realize he was holding.

The sun is still rising when the mutts eventually scatter and the hovercraft lifts Redhead's broken body from the ground.

.

Cato and I gaze at each other in shared shock, when reality sinks in. A genuine smile spreads onto his face, and I let myself shoot him the biggest grin my face can manage. We jump off the Cornucopia together, waiting for Claudius Templesmith's nasally voice to announce us winners.

Instead, there is a deadly silence, and Ginger's final words creep back into my mind. A chilling dread creeps down my spine, and I hope she was wrong for once in her life. I pray for Templesmith's announcement.

His voice comes blaring through the arena, thank god. But as I listen, I realize his voice is saying the wrong words.

.

"Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revisions have been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

His voice clicks off, the words sink in. And this is the moment when I can finally say, without a trace of doubt, that I hate the Capitol.

.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note**: Hey all you lovely readers out there. Sike. I have no idea how many people are actually reading this because none of you ever review. (Except for **NinaMellarkMalfoy, bethaboo, WriterCentral, Pink Mockingjay, **and** a living hell. **You all are my favorites)

That being said, I've decided to keep writing this despite the lack of response because I have some serious Clato feels that need to be voiced. This chapter was seriously hard to write though and I'm still not 100% happy with it, but it's probably as good as it's going to get.

So apologies in advance for the disjointed writing- it's my interpretation of what someone would be thinking in a high-stres, near-death situation. Also, recommended song to play angstily in the background while reading: **Seven Devils by Florence and the Machine. **

Now that's enough from me- go read it! **GAH REVIEW.**

**Disclaimer: Seeing as I'm still not married to Alexander Ludwig as of yet, no, I do not own the Hunger Games.**

**Chapter 3**

**.**

Cato and I quickly back away from each other. My Career instincts switch on. I find myself automatically assuming a defensive position and wishing I had my knives with me.

My eyes sweep over Cato for possible weaknesses, pressure points I can use to my advantage. They take note of his mangled leg, the scratches running down his arms, and the bruises I know he has on his chest.

-but when I reach his face, I stop. This is the boy I've known since I was five, the boy who taught me how to throw a right hook, the boy who has been by my side since forever.

The boy who means somethingto me.

.

I curse the Training Academy because try as they might, they never prepared me for this. They trained me to kill in a hundred different ways- but they never taught me how to kill him.

.

With that single moment of indecision, that flicker of resolve, doubt begins flooding my body. I feel it invading my mind and desperately try to keep it at bay. _Don't think Clove_, I urge myself. _Don't think, just kill_. My head swims. I close my eyes to quiet my mind. It's a trick that has worked every other time. This time, it fails me.

.

The realization that _I can't kill Cato_ plants itself in my mind. It's here to stay- and I'm gone. I am dead- and I know it, know that he will kill me without another thought. The cannon might as well have already gone off.

And yet I can't accept it. I can't give myself willingly to death, can't imagine that these are my last few moments. I am Clove Feldspar. A fighter.

In the course of one second, this all races through my head, and I come to the realization that I both refuse to die and refuse to kill Cato.

I grit my teeth- when did he weasel his way into my heart?

-stuck between a rock and a hard place, I run.

.

I flee like the terrified little girl I know deep down I am, straight into the forest.

Literally running away from my problems, I sprint aimlessly. I race inno direction, with no real destination. The only place I want to go is _away, _away from this god-forsaken arena, away from the Capitol's grip. _Silly Clove- you've forgotten that once they've got their claws in you, they'll never, ever let you go._

I stop at the edge of the waterfall, where the arena drops off into the river. My lungs are burning, and I clutch my sides.

Just as I've caught my breath, Cato tackles me to the ground.

.

I wince as he squeezes my windpipe. This is it. I feel a stab of betrayal; I thought I had meant something to Cato too.

But amazingly, I feel relief too. _Yes Cato_, I think. _Kill me._ _Kill me now. Kill me for my weakness. Kill me, I broke our promise-I let my emotions get in the way. I'm sorry it had to end this way. End this now._

_Second place isn't so bad, _I muse. _Maybe Mom will still be proud._

Who would have known that in the end, it's not Cato who faltered, but me? I'd always thought he was softer than me, that he didn't have what it took to become victor.

But he was strong enough, cruel enough, _Career_-enough to kill me. He deserves to win.

It's stupid and weak and I'm furious at myself, but I still don't regret it- I don't' regret not killing him when I had the chance. I really don't.

.

With those last, breathless seconds, I let myself catch one final glimpse of his face. I take in his cruel sneer, his furrowed brow, his strong, clenched jaw line. This is when he is most magnificent.

I save his eyes for last, prepared to see the stormy navy blue hue they darken to in the preparation of a kill. It's one of the most beautiful colors I have ever seen- is it wrong that I'll miss it?

But, to my shock, they are the same troubled, electric blue I saw last night in the Cornucopia. Cato looks at me miserably, and slowly releases his death grip on my throat. "I can't kill you Clove. I can't."

.

I am furious, strangely enough. Because this was the easiest way to go, and I had almost reached a point of acceptance that I was about to die. I can't believe that Cato could drop the ball like that.

"Kill me Cato," I say half-taunting, half pleading. "Kill me, and you can go home."

"I can't," he repeats, lost and afraid. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Old Clove, Career Clove would have gagged in her mouth; then killed Cato for his insolence. I must be going through some sort of identity crisis, because I realize, to my horror, that I feel the same way. I feel prickles in the back of my eyes. What pathetic Careers we are.

I give a disbelieving scoff as I stand up, brushing the dirt off me, "-unbelievable."

His head jerks up. He looks almost irritated. "And what about you, Clove?

Only we could bicker at a time like this. I snap back, "And what about me?"

He gives me a long, hard stare. "Could you kill me? Right now?"

I could, right now. Push him right off the waterfall and into those jagged rocks. Then I'd be free. I can't though. I want to go home _so freaking bad_, but not enough to kill him. I feel too much for him.

It's not love, God no.

But it's something: it's _couldhavebeen_s, it's the heavy weight of a lifetime of shared memories, it's the hole I know I'd feel if I killed him, it's missing something that I never should have let myself get used to.

I fidget, and then drop my gaze. Avoiding the question, I remind him in a hopeless voice, "They'll be sending in the mutts soon."

Cato draws me in again with those electrifying eyes. The silence in this arena is stifling. His eyes wander over the waterfall gushing behind me, then snap back to me, "Do you trust me?"

.

Without a second thought, I nod. It's an automatic response, a knee-jerk reaction- but I know it's true. Cato is the only person who has ever understood me, the only one who has ever looked out for me.

His eyes flash, fierce and determined, and he pulls some rope out of his backpack.

.

I stare at him as he begins to unravel it. I have no idea what's going on. I call out to him, confused.

"Cato?"

He looks up at me, then towards the waterfall- and I draw up the horrifying conclusion on my own.

.

The waterfall is fiercely crashing over rocks below us. It leers frighteningly up at me, grimacing with those horrible shards of granite. Right now, that very waterfall is me and Cato's last hope for survival.

.

I try to take deep, calming breaths while Cato approaches me with the rope. My hands are shaking as he binds our hands together with it. He must sense my apprehension, because he clasps my hand through the binding.

_This is really it_, I think, as he knots it.

Finally done, he looks down into my eyes, perhaps for the last time.

"It's now or never," I whisper. It's time to reveal to Panem our plan in a last-ditch attempt to go home.

Cato understands what I'm trying to say. It's important that we give the Gamemakers enough time to let the information sink in- but wait too long, and they'll send the mutts to take out one of us. Dramatically, he nods solemnly, "You jump, I jump."

And if it were any other time, he'd wink at me, and I would roll my eyes. But right now, I try to look as melodramatic as possible. I mournfully ask him, "Together?"

He pins me down with those electric eyes, and I can tell for all the dramatics, he means it. "Together. Always."

It's horribly soppy, but I still melt. I lean into him, angle my face up to meet his, and kiss him one last time, for luck.

.

And the kiss is magic. In fact, it's so good, I hope extra hard that this plan works, so I'll have the rest of my life to kiss Cato like this.

We surface after the longest and shortest moment of my life, and he looks dazed. Even now, I still can't help but feel smug about that. I train my eyes on him, and bring him back to the here and now. "Ready?" I whisper.

Cato counts down slowly and quietly. I don't worry about them not hearing us, because no doubt all of Panem is trained solely on us at this moment. "Three….. two….. one…. "

And we jump.

.

We stay suspended in the air like aloft angels for seemingly minutes before we start hurtling towards the rocks beckoning below.

.

I feel a flash of fear, realizing our plan didn't work, that I'm finally dead, when the hovercraft scoops us up in a net.

A thousand miles away, I hear distant echoes of Claudius Templesmith announcing me and Cato as the victors. Relief wracks my body, and Cato and I are _finally victorious. _

_We have won. _

.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: ****Hey, long time no see! Well AP's are kicking my butt right now. Very very very stressed right now. Do you know what would make me feel soooo much better? REVIEWS. lots of them because they brighten my day  
**

**Well, this chapter's kind of a filler, but hopefully next chapter will be up soon. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Is Alexander Ludwig married to me yet? No? Then I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Chapter Four**

.

I wake up with a start, certain that I'm back in the arena. But as my eyes focus, I find myself in a sterile white room that smells of antiseptic. The Remake Center. I swallow hard- how long have I been out? My mouth feels dry and my legs are stiff an- where's Cato?

I look around, but it's only my bed in the room. Where is he? I think back to the Games. It must have only been a day or two ago, but it seems like a million years ago. I remember his bloody, mangled leg. I had been confident that the Capitol could fix it, but what if they couldn't? What if there were complications? My mind races to the worst possibility, and I desperate call out for him in a hoarse voice, "Cato!"

The door opens, and I sit up excitedly. However, it's not Cato, but an Avox servant. I slump down again, and that's when I realize that the Capitol has completely erased all signs of my time in the arena. My previously rough and scarred hands are soft. The calluses from years of knife practice, a source of pride for me, are all but gone. I sigh, and examine the rest of my body. My hair has been washed and brushed, and glistens down my back. All my scars and scratches have been polished away. I've never looked better, but my unmarred skin just leaves me feeling empty and somehow cheated.

I sigh, and notice that the Avox has put some food on my bedside table. I pick up the glass of water and drink it sloppily. "Thanks," I say breathily between gulps. The Avox girl tenses in surprise, and I realize that I've never said a word to her before. She slowly looks up at me, and then ducks her head respectfully. I put down my glass, and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. "Thank you."

_Well this is new_. I've never been particularly polite, never really appreciated anybody. But it seems that my time in the arena has made me grateful just to be alive. I stiffen at the memory of the Games. The Avox girl seems to understand, and she just tucks the blanket over my naked body.

.

It seems almost peaceful, but then of course Letta bursts into my room. My escort rushes over to me, beaming with pride.

"Oh Clove! Congratulations! You have made us all so proud- and imagine, my third year escorting, and I get _two _victors!"

I roll my eyes, typical of Letta to focus on herself. I'm annoyed with her, but for some reason, the corners of mouth turn upwards. Same old Letta. I glance behind her and see my stylist, Merino, and Enobaria. The Avox girl is nowhere to be found now.

Merino looks at me with dazed eyes and simply says, "I already started working on your Victory outfits. They'll keep you safe and pretty."

I frown. What does that even mean? I'm about to ask, but Enobaria just butts in. "Yes, yes, there'll be plenty of time to talk later. But now we have got to get you up and ready. The crowning's in a few hours-"

"Wait, tonight? So soon? How long was I out? Where's Cato? Is he alright? When can I see him?" The questions spill out of me, and Enobaria frowns at me.

"Yes tonight. You've been unconscious for four days, the doctors wanted to make sure your concussion was fully healed. And Cato's fine. More than fine, his leg's completely healed. In fact, we're just waiting on you now, so. get. up."

Letta chirps happily, "You two lovebirds will be together soon enough! They want to get the reunion on tape, so no seeing him until the crowning! Oh you two were so cute during the Games- who knew you were so in love?" Never gave the slightest indication of your feelings, it must have been hard to keep it a secret…"

I snort. Cato and I are not exactly lovebirds, but we all just ignore Letta and let her babble away. Merino helps me out of the bed. She's always been quiet, dreamy and faraway, but right now, I appreciate her calming presence.

.

She leads me to my old room. I fight to keep my emotions in check on the way there. Last time I was here, the Training Center was bustling and full of energy and hope. Now, it's just me and Merino. Everyone else is dead.

_No_, I remind myself. _Cato's still alive_. The thought calms me down a little bit, and I'm almost stable when I see my old prep team. Ambrosia, Easton, and Nika all rush to greet me. They are as silly as I remember, and while it annoyed me before the Games, the fact that they haven't changed is like a reassuring pat on the back. _Nothing's changed Clove. Everything's fine._

.

The prep team chatters through my showering and make-up while I try to keep down the food I ate earlier. Merino just stays in a corner, lost in her own designs and sketches. Once they're done, Merino pulls out a white gown. I take the soft dress, slightly confused. This is a far cry from my gladiator armor and sultry red gown.

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"Just put it on Clove," she says dreamily.

I slip it on, and turn towards the mirror. While the prep team all ooh and aah, I just stare at myself, not sure what to make of myself.

Nika has done my hair in a braid that frames my face like a halo. Ambrosia and Easton have put a soft glow onto my face. I look fresh-faced, innocent, lovely. Completely unlike myself.

But the dress is the most off-putting. It's draped in the style of a Roman toga, I suppose to match my parade outfit. But that's where the similarities end. It's trimmed delicately with gold, and ends billowing at my knees. It's delicate- practically angelic. The dress goes against my entire upbringing, but I've never looked so beautiful.

I swivel to face Merino suspiciously. She just looks back at me, not looking quite as vague as usual. "I thought you might want to try something a little different."

I just nod. There's something going on here, but I'm too groggy to ask. Letta pops out of nowhere, as is her specialty. "Clove, you look beautiful! The crowning starts in a half hour, now let's get going!"

I'm tired and all I want to do is go back to sleep, but I trail after her obligingly. I'm eager to see Cato, make sure he's alright.

.

Enobaria is there to meet us at backstage. She raises her eyebrows questioningly at my outfit, and then tells me to wait for Caesar's introduction. I stand there while Letta shoots directions at me. This is happening. I am the victor of the 74th Hunger Games. Cato is still alive. I am going home.

Suddenly, I hear Caesar's voice calling for me. I take a deep breath and wipe my hands on my dress before plastering a smirk onto my face and walking onto the stage.

.

Like every other time, the Capitol lights blind me temporarily. I blink rapidly to adjust to the flashing lights and cheers. I look out into the audience. I see Enobaria, Letta, Merino, my prep team before flashing them all a mischievous smile. The crowd roars in approval. Satisfied, I turn to face Caesar, but my eyes catch Cato instead.

My breath catches in my throat because he seems too good to be true. I never dared dream we would both leave the Capitol alive. The crowd fades, and I run towards him. Cato has that giant grin on his face, and he's covering the stage with long strides before we crash into each other.

I hug him fiercely, as tight as I can. He picks me up, and I whisper hard into his ear, "-we did it."

He pulls away from the hug, beaming with a simplicity I would never be able to manage and says, "I never doubted it for a second."

"Bullshit," I say, but I'm smiling broadly all the same. In the background, I hear Caesar Flickerman laughing and riling up the crowd.

"Clove Feldspar and Cato Slate, ladies and gentlemen! Your 74th Hunger Games victors!"

.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN****: Just consoled myself after that Chemistry AP Exam with writing this chapter. Why do I do this to myself?**

I also was a little disappointed by the lack of reviews from the last chapter. Was it really that bad? I have big ideas for the upcoming chapters, but I think the last chapter and this one are both needed to kind of build up to it. So maybe it was because there wasn't a lot going on. Or maybe I just suck at writing and I should just stop. Oh well. CAN'T STOP WON'T STOP. lol I'm so awkward. 

**So here's hoping to more responses yay! Review so I feel justified taking time out of my busy AP study time. **

**Happy 20****th**** Birthday Alexander Ludwig!**

**Disclaimer: ****To my intense disappointment, I do not own any part of the Hunger Games universe. **

**Chapter 5**

.

After the crowd has calmed down, Cato and I sit down on the couch facing Caesar. I can't believe I lost control over myself like that. I smooth down my dress a little foolishly, releasing my grip on Cato's hand. He frowns at me, and picks up my hand again. The Capitolites eat it up, and Caesar looks at us coyly.

"So Clove and Cato… congratulations on your shared victory. Who would have known you two would have made it out together?"

"I did, Caesar. I didn't doubt it for a second, not after Claudius Templesmith made that announcement," boasts Cato. I snort, and Caesar notices.

"Ms. Feldspar, you didn't have the same confidence in a victory?"

Cato squeezes my hand. I raise my eyebrow at him, confused by this display of affection. He smiles back at me, but his eyes are wide with a warning. _Play along Clove._

I knew something was up. My mind is racing like I am back in the arena, and I figure I just have to trust Cato again.

I look out into the crowd of eager Capitol citizens. I love having them wrapped around my finger.

"No I didn't. But now I've learned my lesson. With the Capitol's love, nothing is impossible!"

The crowd roars my name, Cato's name, and I flash a beatific smile.

Inside though, I am cringing. It's true. I've only survived because they allowed me to- now I owe them my life. _I'll never be free._

While I'm deep in thought, Cato and Caesar exchange a few more jokes before the lights go down and a screen is lowered to the stage. I freeze. Every year, the victor is forced to relive all the most dramatic moments of the Games. I can't think of worse than this right now. Watching my near-death experiences. Watching them all die again- wasn't once enough? I sink into the couch, safe from the Capitol's eyes in the dark, and hope the three hours pass quickly. Cato squeezes my hand again, and I'm glad that I at least have him with me.

.

During the first strains of the Capitol anthem, Cato whispers quickly in my ear. "Listen carefully. The Capitol's not happy with us. We made them look foolish with that waterfall stunt apparently. Brutus and Enobaria want us to play up the helpless lover's angle. Play along, and we'll be safe."

I keep my eyes trained on the screen, trying to process all the new information. I dazedly watch all 24 of us around the Cornucopia, waiting for sixty seconds to run out.

Things start to click into place. The girly outfit, the" lovers' reunion"- they're all attempts to keep the Capitol happy with us.

I open my mouth to ask why the Capitol sees two teenagers as threats, but Cato just shakes his head. "Later," he promises. On screen, I'm at the Bloodbath, throwing knives at Everdeen. I grimace and wonder how long this ruse can last.

.

In typical Capitol fashion, they have edited the Games footage to focus a disproportionate amount of time on me and Cato. Every look, every hand brush is a monumental occasion. They gloss over the deaths of all the tributes unless it was particularly entertaining.

I'm forced to watch myself kill tribute after tribute. Sometime after I kill that crippled boy, I try to close my eyes and block it all out. But it's no good. The screams are just amplified, and their pleading faces swim in front of me endlessly.

I instead try to think of District 2. The kids' faces when they get that Victory Feast. My mother finally being proud of me.

Suddenly, I hear my own voice amplified through the theater. _Oh no_. I know what's coming. I don't want them to show this, they can't show this, it's stupid and embarrassing, an-

"_Look Cato. There's only a few of us left. Marvel's gone, there's no point in keeping this alliance. We better split up now."_

_Cato sighs._ _"Fair enough. I'd wish you good luck, but we both know that wouldn't be entirely true."_

In real time, the Capitol laughs heartily, as if the hopeless words of an 18-year old are some sort of comedy act.

_I blink, a little hurt by his bluntness. "All right," I reply crisply, gathering up my supplies. "Well it was fun while it lasted, best be getting on my-." I am cut off by Cato's lips. _

_It's quiet in the arena when we both separate, panting, looking at each other. My mind is racing as I study him. _

"_I'll miss you Clove." he whispers, and there's an unfamiliar pang in my chest. He's always been by my side. My best ally. After a few awkward moments, he asks, "Well…?" _

_Detachedly, I whisper, "I'll miss you too Cato." My voice breaks a little. "But hopefully, I'll never have to see you again." And with that, I turn on my heel, and head into underbrush. _

Leave it to the Capitol to take an almost genuine moment and completely ruin it for me. Now I'll always be remembered as the love-struck Career. How pathetic.

I groan, and I swear I can feel Cato smirking at me. For him, this is all one big joke. Frustrated, I rip my hand away from his.

.

Things just get worse from there. The Capitol has our reunion, after Claudius Templesmith's first rule revision, on film too. They also have District 12's, and that makes me even more upset than my own private moments.

That boy was so in love with her, and she had feelings for him too- I can see it.

But where are they now? On their way back home, nailed into coffins. Love's a sham, a weakness. I'm impressed that Twelve turned it into sponsorships, but ultimately, even the illusion of love will only slow you down.

I wince when they announce the Feast. I already know what's going to happen. Thresh, Girl on Fire, Lover Boy, Foxface- they all die. It's like watching a horror movie that you can never quite get used to.

We reach the climactic end of the Games. Claudius Templesmith's second rule change blares out, just as chilling the second time as the first. I sit up in my seat, suddenly curious to see Cato's reactions

After I run off like a scared rabbit, Cato grabs his backpack and runs off after me. But his injured leg forces him into a slow jog. Over the sound of his crunching footsteps, I hear him muttering to himself. "Kill her Cato. She's not worth it. Kill her."

Even though it's what I expected, it stings a little bit. After all, Cato is pumping himself up in hopes of killing me. Awkward. The closer he gets to the waterfall, the more his resolve lessens though. By the time he tackles me, he's more desperate than bloodthirsty.

The Capitol completely dramatizes our decision to jump. Emotional music swells in the background, montages of our "love story" flicker during the pauses. By the time we kiss that last time, I'm hypnotized- I myself almost believe that we are in love.

I squeeze my eyes shut and remind myself that it's just the Capitol brainwashing me, that I don't, _won't_ fall in love with Cato. It'd be the death of me. _It's just the Capitol messing with you_

But why? Why are we so important to keep under control?

.

When we jump from the ledge, I finally understand Snow's problems.

Cato and I look heaven-bound, somehow more innocent than we have ever truly been. If I had been watching this at home, I would have been struck by this image, these Careers-turned-lovers plummeting to their death. Our faces scream of desperation, and more importantly, of hope.

I understand now. We have gotten the best of them, and they can't let the Districts know that. Unknowingly, Cato and I may have started something even the Capitol can't control.

After all, hope is the only thing stronger than fear.

.

Later, when President Snow places two crowns on me and Cato's heads, his eyes cold and challenging, I know he feels exactly the same way.

.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Holy crap this was hard to write. I'm pretty sure it's terrible. Maybe I should shelf this for a while….

So I finally figured out that Fanfiction keeps track of how many people visit your story. And I have a respectable amount…. but like 3 reviews. I'm actually really frustrated now.

I hate it when people do this, but I'm not posting the next chapter until I get **ten** reviews. It shouldn't be that hard, considering how many people visit my story. Even if you're only reviewing to rage-hate me, please review! I really appreciate the constructive criticism and feedback.

**[Re-done!] **So while I wait impatiently for my ten review quota to be completed, I decided to edit chapter 6. I think it's a lot better now, but tell me what you guys think! Seriously. review. Don't alert/favorite without reviewing. Seriously.

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own even the slightest speck of the Hunger Games Universe.

**Chapter 6**

.

The moment I step onto the train heading home, I drop that bright cheesy grin that's been plastered onto my face for the past two days. I stomp into my former room on the train, and firmly shut the door behind me.

Outside, Letta sniffs disapprovingly, "Well that was _rude._"

I roll my eyes, but then hear Cato snap back, "Leave her alone. We're all tired." I hear his door shut too, and feel a rush of gratitude. Cato is the only one who even remotely gets me.

_No. No Clove don't think that way._ I have to remind myself to keep myself away from Cato as much as possible.

.

"_Tell me what's going on Enobaria! Why are we in the fucking bathroom?" I order._

_Enobaria bares her pointy teeth at me. "Easy there, kid. Don't talk that way to me." _

_I struggle to drop my volume. "Then tell me what's happening." I hate being the last one in the loop- even Cato knows more than I do. _

"_We're in the bathroom with the shower on because then they can't hear us. Now shut up and let me talk." she commands. I keep quiet because this is the first time anyone's been willing to tell me anything. Cato won't tell me anymore (that asshole), Brutus hates me, and let's be honest, Letta has no idea what's going on. _

"_You and Cato made quite a spectacle during the Games. And when you both jumped…" she whistles. "Well let's just say that you two are either beyond stupid or hella brave." _

_She glances at my clueless face, "-well I guess just stupid then. Anyways, the Capitol likes for everyone to play by their rules. When you two screwed with them, some other Districts got the same idea. It's nothing big, nothing they can't handle, but the blames falls on you and Cato."_

"_-how the hell is it our fault-," I start to interject._

"_-what did I say about keeping your mouth shut? Now we can keep everyone happy by just playing the innocent lovers card. So that's what you'll do. Act like you're in love with Cato, that it wasn't your intention to break the Capitol's rules, and you might just keep yourselves alive."_

_I bite my lip. "-And if I don't?"_

"… _let's just say you'll have you wished you died in that arena."_

_._

Ever since that night, I've been on edge, more stressed than I ever was in the arena. Not only am I responsible for uprisings and riots in the lower districts, but now I have to pretend I am in love with Cato for as long as the Capitol wants.

_Is that really such a bad thing Clove?_

I bite my lip. It would be easy, natural to fall into something with Cato. Fact is, the boy's gorgeous, and my oldest ally. I've admired him from afar for as long as I can remember. The Capitol is practically begging for us to get married already. He's the only one who understands me.

-But that's when I stop. Because Cato and I are too similar to ever work like that. We're good friends, great allies, but we would be terrible together in _that way_.

Growing up in District 2, kids are encouraged to put feelings aside- and me and Cato, we're the district's star students. Needless to say, neither of us is very good with emotions.

Cato, he went through girls like training dummies. He's good looking and charming, and he used that to his advantage. There will be plenty of girls eagerly awaiting his return.

In contrast, I can count on one hand how many people could be waiting for me at the station. My mother should be there, but who knows. My younger half-sister, Tara. Lyme, my former trainer.

I might have three people waiting for me, and Cato might have swarms, but inside, we're the same. We hold people at arm's length, we rely on ourselves. We could never have a healthy relationship.

I'm pretty sure we don't _do "_love" (or even "like", really). I've always kept to myself, and I like it that way. It's safer that way, because love only leads to heartache. Relying on someone else for happiness is weak and pathetic, and I'm not going to put myself out there.

Because they all leave in the end, even the ones who swear they won't. Loving someone gives them a power over you, and you can't ever get it back.

Knowing Cato, I wouldn't trust him with anything, except for maybe having my back in the arena. He's careless, always playing with people's feelings just for the hell of it.

He's thoughtless when it comes to winning. I'm pretty much his best friend, and he still volunteered for the Games, for the chance to kill me.

So for every reason for why I should be with Cato, there are ten more for why I shouldn't.

He probably doesn't even feel anything remotely romantic for me- not that it even matters in the slightest.

_But those kisses, _my traitorous mind whispers. The way we acted in the arena- there's a reason why the Capitol thinks we're in love.

-_But we were about to die_, I remind myself. We were just grasping for straws.

_And there are plenty of other girls Cato has acted that way with. You're nothing special. _I squeeze my eyes shut, remembering being ignored in favor of Glimmer. She was much more beautiful than me, leggy and curvy. It was only after she died that Cato even went back to talking to me. I shake my head to clear my head of these thoughts; they shouldn't even make a difference.

While I'm sorting this all out mentally, my head begins to ache. It might be phantom pains from my time in the Arena, but it's probably because my relationship with Cato is as confusing as hell.

And that's what really makes me so upset. Cato and I have always been completely honest with one another. Our friendship had been natural, relaxed, as easy as breathing. A source of comfort.

But now that the Games are over, Cato and I have barely talked at all unless prodded by the Capitol. The Capitolites want us to be together, so at all those Capitol parties, we have had to play love birds. Our relationship has turned fake, tinged with over-saturated colors for the Capitol. When we talk at all, it's to fake-swoon over each other for their benefit.

I'm terrible at it, awkward and stilted.

But Cato, Cato's brilliant at it. He's always been a charmer, and he treats it like some big game. But now we don't even really talk anymore.

I am angry with myself for letting the Capitol take yet another thing from me, so mad that I can't even stand looking at Cato when he's giving me that fake lovesick face.

-Because sometimes I find myself swept along with it, convinced by his stupid grin and winks. Sometimes I'm in danger of actually falling for him.

But I just have to remember it's all fake. It's all for the Capitol. We don't love. Cato's just flirting with me for the hell of it, eager to get another girl under his spell. Everything is fake and not real and confusing…

So I've decided once and for all that I won't let Cato and his tricks get to me. It's safer for me, for him, for everyone.

.

I wake up at daybreak, mouth dry, ears ringing with the screams of tributes long gone. I pad to the lounge in the train for a glass of water. But when I reach the icebox, I find Cato sprawled on the couch. Crap. I turn around and try to sneak out, but Cato just calls out, "I know you're there Clove."

Fuck. I haven't had a real conversation with Cato since the arena, and I would like to keep it that way. "I was just getting some water, but I'm going back to bed," I say quickly.

He laughs, a short, harsh syllable. "You're avoiding me Clove. It's fine. Go drink your water now."

Shrugging, I pour myself some of the fancy Capitol water into a tumbler. While I stand by the counter, Cato flips over on the couch and pins me down with his blue eyes. "… so why are you avoiding me again?" He's grinning, but his eyes flash with annoyance.

I choke a little on my water, but force myself to maintain eye contact with him for at least five seconds to prove I'm not scared. "I'm not avoiding you Cato. I've just been preoccupied." Lie.

"Don't lie Clove." he says heatedly. "If you're sick of me, at least have the balls to tell me."

I'm a little frustrated at this point. Why can't he get that I can't stand to look at him anymore? "I don't even have balls." I blurt out.

There's an awkward two seconds where he just stares at me wide-eyed, and I curse inwardly at my lack of social skills.

Suddenly, he's laughing, a big Cato laugh that I've gotten to hear less and less over the years. I join in because it feels good to laugh for once.

After a while, he quiets down, and I'm still left laughing into the palm of my hand. He just watches me with a half-smile on his face.

"It's rude to stare Cato," I drawl jokingly. _Maybe we can still go back to the way it was before._

He shakes himself, "Sorry, I just forgot how nice your laugh sounds sometimes." He says it so suddenly that I'm caught unaware. He's just playing games again, making a fool out of me. -_and this is why I was avoiding you._

I recover quickly. _Nice try Cato._ Rolling my eyes at him, "You can drop the act Cato. We might not be star-crossed lovers, but I still know you like the back of my hand."

"Whaddya mean 'drop the act'?" he replies back, giving me this puppy dog look._ Idiot._

I'm sick of dancing around the truth.- time to set things straight. I slam my glass down on the table. I stalk over to him, finger already pointed accusingly. "I mean you can stop playing. We're almost home now. Safe. We don't have to pretend anymore."

Cato's eyes harden a little bit. His grin's all but gone now. I've probably bruised his ego. "I wasn't aware that being nice to me was such an ordeal."

I hesitate. "… it's not. But aren't you sick of having to pretend we're in love? I just want things to go back to the way they were."

"Things haven't changed a bit. I …love you no matter what the Capitol wants." He chokes a little on the word, so I know he's just faking.

Nevertheless, my eyes bug out a little bit. Cato and I have never mentioned love before, never mind loving _each other_. "Cut the crap Cato. How do you even know what love is? I sure don't."

"Love is letting you kill me so you could go home!"

I blink at him, momentarily speechless, and he takes advantage of the silence.

"But you couldn't. How do you explain that Clove? And all that stuff during the Games? The Capitol didn't tell you to do that did they?"

I close my eyes, remembering everything we've been through. I'm so confused with what's real and what's not. But I can't let my guard down. "I blame the brain damage." I reply coldly.

I turn away from him, satisfied with finally getting the last word. But suddenly I'm whipped around, and slammed against the wall.

His face is twisted with frustration. He growls out: "Why don't you believe me? I thought I made myself pretty damn obvious."

I'm actually pretty used to Cato's outbursts, so I know just how to sooth him. With a quiet purr, I comfort him. "It's just the Capitol messing around, Cato. They're playing with our heads, so we'll behave. Once we get back to Two, you'll see. Things'll go back to normal. I promise." _I hope._ I pat his cheek gently, and wiggle out of his hold.

He punches the wall next to my head. "Dammit Clove! You're a real pain in the ass sometimes."

I roll my eyes. If anyone's being a pain now, it's definitely Cato. Why can't he take no for an answer? I only want to keep us safe. I clench my jaw and sigh, "Just leave me alone Cato. It's for the best."

"No! Because we could be happy. We won Clove! We _won together._ We did the impossible, and I know we care about each other. So why can't you just be yourself for once?" he takes a breath and answers his own question. "Because you always have to put on a show, prove that you're different from everybody else. I always thought that it was for the Games, for the sponsors- but now I'm not so sure."

Somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I feel a stab of betrayal. I always thought that Cato was the only one who understood what I was, who I am. But it's probably for the best this way.

While I'm thinking to myself, Cato's still ranting at me. " -have some fucked-up abandonment issues. You can't just close yourself up just because your dad died, Clove."

I draw in a sharp breath. -He did not just bring up my dad. No one brings up my dad. "Just shut up! Shut up, you don't know anything! I hate you!" I screech out.

Cato shakes his head, frustrated. "Why did I deserve the misfortune for falling for such a heartless bitch?" he mumbles to himself. I'm pretty sure he still wanted me to hear it though.

It's these mixed signals that make me snap to the offensive. Not the fact that he called me a bitch. I'm used to those off-handed remarks. From other people, never Cato-but it was bound to happen. Because I really am a heartless bitch most of the time. _Well if it's bitch he wants, then it's bitch he'll get. _

"Oh, I'm the cold bitch now. Real mature now. Way to _win_ me over Cato. You're a real sweet talker." I jeer at him, each word laced with hurt. "Does that work on all the other girls? Thought you could practice on me before you put the moves on those bimbos back home?

-You can't play me. I saw the way you tossed those girls aside after you were done- hell you left Glimmer to die! So stop pretending you _love _me to get a rise. I'm not one of those idiot girls back home Cato. It won't work. It'll never work. So just stop."

I'm out of breath, panting. I bite my lip. I didn't mean to mention Glimmer- it just slipped out. Maybe it bothered me more than I thought it did after all.

His jaw's clenched now, and he's working to keep his temper under control. It's probably not easy to have the truth laid out like that. I smirk in victory. Only I can get under his skin this way.

"You're cute when you're in denial Princess." he spits out. If there's one thing Cato is, it's stubborn.

I punch him in the face. Hard. I'm sick of having to explain myself to him. He should get my point crystal-clear now.

"You're so fucking annoying," I mutter as I finally leave the room, hand throbbing.

.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: **Hey guys! Thank you so much for the reviews! I hit ten reviews a few days ago, but I was visiting colleges, so I was a little busy. But here is chapter 7! I really hope you guys like it. It's a little rough for me, but I really wanted to update. Hope you enjoy! As always, review- especially if you favorite or alert! I'll be waiting for another ten reviews before I put up the next chapter!

Disclaimer: you know the drill.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Atlanta Goodridge, my mother, is victor of the 53rd Hunger Games, and she never lets me forget it. My entire life, I've always been told stories about how my beautiful, strong, smart mother refused the Career alliance and singlehandedly took out half of the tributes in the arena. With her bloody mace, my mother impressively ended her games in just under a week.

I look out the window, and see the entire town waiting for me. No, not waiting for me. Waiting for Clove Feldspar, the newest Career victor. I remind myself to put on my patented mischievous grin. At the forefront, I spy my mother with Tara. The rest of the crowd is pressed up and jostling one another, but no one dares encroach on her space.

I'm not the only one intimidated by my mother.

As I exit the train, my half-sister and my mother both slowly walk up to welcome me home.

Mother gifts me one of her rare smiles. "Good job in the arena, Clove."

I'm happy, I really am, but is that all she has to say to me? Apparently it is, because she just pats me on the back and waits for me to answer. My mother and I haven't always had the best relationship, but I had hoped for at least a little emotion. Behind us, I spot Cato being congratulated by his family and his admirers. We share a look, but things are still tense between us. His eye's a little swollen from our fight, and I almost feel bad. But not bad enough to apologize just yet, so I turn back to my own dysfunctional family.

"Thanks, Mom." I try to give her a heartfelt smile. "I'm glad to be back." She seems disappointed too with our guarded conversation, but you can't just change the way some things were.

I glance at Cato again. Some things change without you even realizing it, and others will always stay the same, no matter how hard you try. Life's like that, I guess.

"Good job, Clove," Tara congratulates me, but her voice is choked up with something. Jealousy? My sister and I have always tried to one-up one another. She's got nothing to worry about though, Mother always favored her. Just as I open my mouth to reply, I feel a light tap on my arm.

I turn around to a small, frail girl. "Hi Cassie," I almost smile. I've always had a soft spot in my heart for Cato's baby sister. Girls like her usually annoy me to no end; delicate and seemingly helpless, they give being small a bad reputation. But Cassie's nowhere near helpless. In fact, I suspect she's more capable then me and Cato put together.

Funny story- Cassie's actually the reason Cato and I became partners.

.

"_Cassie, you don't really like training, do you?" I ask the tiny eight-year old in front of me. _

_She looks up fiercely at me, "Is it because I'm small? Because that doesn't mean I'm not capable."_

_I roll my eyes, "I was smaller than you when I was your age. Size doesn't have anything to do with what you can do. And you're adequate… But you don't like training do you?" I repeat my question impatiently. _

_She looks up at me with crystal blue eyes, trying to figure out if she could trust me. "No." she admits, "but my brother's in training, so I figure I should be too." _

_I squat down next to her and grip her shoulder tightly. She has to understand. "Cassie, listen. If you don't want to train, and no one's making you, don't... Training changes you, and you can't stop that. Get out while you can. There'll be plenty of girls that can volunteer if you get reaped. Don't waste your time here if you don't need to."_

_She keeps a steady gaze on me. "And what about you? Do you want to train?" _

_I give her a bittersweet smile. "It's not about whether I want to. Training is in my blood. It's who I am… it's like breathing to me. I was born to be a Career ." _

I didn't really answer her question then, and I still can't. I still don't know whether I would have chosen this life.

_The next day, a brawny boy strides up to my angrily during Training. Cato. I've fought him a couple of times, known of him since I entered the Academy, and he's good. But I'm better. _

_-Well that's not true either. We're pretty evenly matched. But why is he coming over here?_

"_Clove, right?" he grits out angrily. He towers over me, trying to intimidate me. _

_I stick my chin out just a little bit. "Yes." I say evenly. Behind my back, I pull out a knife. _

"_Are you the one that told my sister to quit training?" _

_So that's Cassie's brother. I look up at his face and am met with the same crystal blue eyes. On Cassie, they're pretty, but on Cato, they're more intense, dangerous. _

_I get my knife ready. "What if I am?" _

"_Why the fuck would you do that? Are you a stupid bitch or something?" _

_I exhale sharply through my nose. No one talks to me like that- obviously this boy is too dense to recognize this. "Listen, you son of a bitch. I'm not stupid, and you know very well that I could kill you in the blink of an eye. I simply told your sister that if she didn't want to be here, then she shouldn't feel like she has to." As I talk, I casually pull out my knife from my back and start twirling it through my fingers. Just so he knows who he's messing with. _

_He follows the knife with his eyes. "Just stay out of her business, alright little girl?" _

_I roll my eyes. Everyone always mentions my height like it's a weakness. "And you need to stay out of her business too, asshole. It's her own choice." _

"_I'm her broth-"_

"_-I realize that, idiot. You still need to back the hell off. If she doesn't want to train, she shouldn't have to train." _

_He stops short. No one has ever interrupted him before probably. I know his type. Muscular golden boys like him are a dime a dozen in District Two. They all think they're the shit, that the world revolves around them. But this one's a little different, because he doesn't retort. He just gives me appraising look before stalking away. _

_To my surprise, the next day, he requests me as his training partner._

_And even more surprisingly, I accept. I really was batshit crazy back then. _

.

Cassie looks sneakily up at me. "I knew you'd come back alive one way or another."

I sigh, "It was a lot harder than I expected."

"I know, I was worried for a little bit. But you and Cato always work best together. I knew you two could do it."

I shake my head. "There's no way you could have known that."

She sticks out her lip stubbornly, pouting. "But I did." No matter how mature she acts, Cassie is still just a stubborn eleven-year old. But she perks up, eyes flashing with mischief. "So are you and Cato going to get married now?"

My eyes bulge out, and I choke a little. "No...I…er- it's complicated." I finish stumbling over my words and become aware of Cato watching the two of us. I try to ignore him the best I can.

"Are you two fighting now? He has a bruise on his face, and I don't know anyone else who could have laid a hand on Cato."

No matter how uncomfortable this conversation is, I have to laugh at that. "That's a little complicated too. Don't listen to what he has to say though, alright?"

She lifts up her chin, which I'm pretty sure she got from me. "Of course, I'm smarter than that. But you should know, he probably already feels bad about your fight."

I sigh, but don't want to go into the sordid details with an eleven year old. "Maybe… I don't see him apologizing any time soon though."

She just shakes her head knowingly, "You'll be back soon. You always are."

.

Two weeks after I've gotten back from the Capitol, and I still haven't gotten more than an hour of sleep at a time. Every time I close my eyes, I see their dead eyes, blood dripping, screams. It's not enough to scare me, but it keeps me up. I spend my nights tossing and turning in my bed, trying to clear my head. But when I'm not thinking about the Games, I'm thinking about Cato. How we're not talking, how when we weren't training before the Games, we'd sometimes sit on that gorge at the edge of town and throw pebbles off the ledge and talk.

I get up at the crack of dawn, figuring I can go for a run before the rest of town gets up. But as I get a cup of water from the kitchen, my mother appears in the doorway. "Going somewhere?"

I'm a little startled, but compose myself quickly enough not to show it. When I was little, demonstrating weakness would warrant a verbal beating. Never mind her mace, Mother's strongest weapon was always her razor sharp tongue. Things have gotten a little better since I won the Games, but I'm still wary around her.

"Just for a jog," I answer evenly.

"The Games are over now, Clove. It's time to get new hobbies other than training." Somehow this innocent piece of advice sounds like a reproach coming from her mouth. "Speaking of which, it's time you decide on what your talent will be."

I stifle a sigh. I've spent a good deal of time wondering what my talent for the Capitol could possibly be. Knife throwing is out, because the Capitol prefers less violent hobbies. Anything girly is probably a bad idea too- I'm lithe and coordinated, but not graceful enough to dance. I'm a terrible singer, and I can't draw for my life. "I'm trying my best." I try to tell her.

But she won't have it. "Well, try harder. It's not like you're busy with anything else. What could possibly be taking you so long?"

I briefly consider telling her about my sleep problems, but think better of it. She'll just use it as ammunition later.

She studies my face a little more closely now, clever eyes appraising the bags under my eyes. "You're looking a little sickly. Have you been getting enough sleep recently?"

I break away from her gaze and look out the window instead. "No." I admit reluctantly.

"They have pills for tha-"

I cut her off firmly. "I'm not taking any of that shit they give me." In my weakest moments, I've considered taking the little blue pills the Capitol gives me for insomnia. But I'm done relying on them.

Mother almost gives me an approving look before rattling on. "Well the choice is yours. Make sure that you look good for your party next week though. "

This time, I don't quite succeed in hiding my feelings. Next week, I'll be turning seventeen. And the Capitol, always eager for a reason to celebrate, is hosting me a party in the Justice Hall. It'll be luxurious and filled with Capitolites and former victors. There's really nowhere I'd rather not be.

"Oh grow up." she snaps. "If you can handle the Games as well as you did, you can handle a Capitol party."

I look up. That was almost a compliment.

She doesn't realize that though, and just keeps talking. "It won't be that bad. You haven't seen Cato in a while, and he's been invited." My mother still hasn't picked up the fact that I'm avoiding him for the time being.

It'll be the first time I see Cato since we got back. The thought makes me excited, but nervous at the same time. Will things go back to normal? Will he still be angry with me? Even worse, will he even come?

_He'll come_, I tell myself. He has to come.

.

The day before my party, Merino stands on my doorstep, looking as out of place as ever. Wispy and dreamy, she blows in like some sort of tumbleweed. I close the door behind her, She's here to attend my party, and she's brought me another dress to wear for the photo-ops. I eye her warily. My prep team came by earlier today and waxed and made me over until they were satisfied. Needless to say, it was quite traumatizing.

Merino smiles peacefully as she whips out her new creation. She hands it to me, and I turn it over in my hands.

It's another soft chiffon number. Tighter than my crowning dress, but still designed to make me look angelic. It's beautiful, and a little more mature than usual, but I still groan, "No more white dresses, Merino." God, it even has _lace _on it. I try to hand it back to her.

She pushes the dress back into my hands with unexpected strength. "Don't you see? They'll keep you safe!" she insists.

I snort. "I really doubt wearing dresses that make me like a _cherub_ will really help the situation, Merino."

She looks a little hurt at first, but she shakes her head. "You'll see in time. They help more than you know."

She's as mysterious as I remember. I start to ask her what she means, but she remembers something else. "Oh! I also brought you a little present!" She whips out a wrapped present, and urges me to take it.

I stumble over my words. "Oh Merino… you shouldn't have." She really shouldn't have. I hate presents because then people expect me to be in their eternal favor, or something like that. And I usually hate things other people pick out for me.

She looks at me with those wide eyes, so I shrug and open it anyways. It's an expensive looking camera, and I blink at it. Maybe Merino really is crazy.

"Er.. I don't really take pictures, but thanks so much?" My gratitude sounds unsure, because I'm trying out this new thing where I'm not a complete bitch. It's a hard habit to break.

"It can be your talent!" Her eyes shine excitedly.

"Um.. I really appreciate the thought, but I don't know the first thing about taking pictures." I struggle to find a polite way to tell Merino that it's a shit gift.

She rushes to explain herself. "But you don't have to! The Capitol won't know the difference. Just take some pictures of your life, give them vague titles, and voila! They'll sell like hotcakes, and it couldn't be easier."

I stare at her. Merino really is full of surprises. Every time I question her sanity, she goes and does something completely brilliant. "It's perfect, Merino. Thank you." This time, I sound a little more genuine.

Her eyes glint, "Who knows, it might come in handy later."

I give her another look, ready to ask what she means, but just shrug it off. Maybe it's better if I stop asking questions with Merino.

"Now put on that dress," she instructs as she sinks back into her normal dreamy state.

.

The dress Merino designed me was a lot more than I bargained for, but I manage to stumble towards the drinks table with a semblance of grace. As I pour myself some punch, I hear an all too-familiar voice in my ear.

"Nice dress, Princess." Cato's breath tickles the shell of my ear, and I fight back a shiver. I knew he'd show. I turn to face him with my most compromising smile. But I suddenly stop. Because behind him, clutching his arm, is another girl.

I look down at my cup of punch, wonder what would happen if I poured it right over Cato's head, if it would look like blood running down his face. I close my eyes, then look up with a winning smile pasted on my face.

"Thanks so much. Now excuse me, but I just _have_ to go talk to the Mayor." I could have yelled at him if I wanted to, but Cato hates being ignored. Sure enough, I sneak a peek as I walk away, and he's glaring at my retreating back- also checking out my ass. Typical.

As I talk to the stuffy old mayor, I stew over the fact Cato brought a date to my birthday party. Asshole. But isn't this what I wanted? Things are finally going back to normal. He's going back to systematically working his way through the female population of District Two, and I'm back to being the misanthropic bitch I was before. It all worked out, and I should be happy- but I can't help remembering throwing those damn pebbles with him.

The rest of the night passes as slowly as one might expect. As I open my many presents, I snort at the number of dresses and shoes I get. It's like these people don't know me at all. I look at the circle of unfamiliar faces around me. That's right, I remember. They don't.

Letta pops out of nowhere, a little tipsy. "Oh Clove, what a lovely party!" She sways a little, and I have to chuckle at Letta and her antics. She's been networking and bragging of her success as our escort all night.

"You should know- you're the one who planned it." I reply as patiently as I can.

"That's right- I did, didn't I? Well I did a _wonderful_ job. And you look _wonderful_ too! The prep team did such a good job with you!" She turns to share her enthusiasm with the rest of the group. "Doesn't Clove just look absolutely _stunning_ tonight? It's like she was never in the arena at all!" Everyone turns to gaze at me, and all mumble compliments agreeably before they turn back to their respective conversations.

Only Cato really _looks_ at me, before saying pretty loudly, "I dunno Letta, I thought she looked better before, scars and all." Some people overhear and sniff their disapproval at his rudeness, and his little girlfriend slaps his arm.

"That wasn't very nice Cato!" she gushes flirtatiously.

He doesn't pay her any attention though. Cato and I just keep sharing this heated look. They don't get what he was trying to say, but I do. They don't understand that those scars were important to me, and that keeping them was a tribute to what I am, and what I've done. That they've taken all they can from me.

But he does. _God, I really miss him_, I realize. "Thank you," I mouth, and he just shakes his head. Maybe I don't really want things to go back to normal after all.

-as if my life isn't confusing enough as it is. I promise myself to talk to Cato sooner rather than later. _What if it's too late to fix things_? I push away those thoughts with another gulp of punch. _I'll just think about that tomorrow._

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Review if you liked it, or even if you didn't!


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: **

Hello, my lovely readers! Sorry for the delay in updating. This chapter was really hard for me to write, and I'm not sure it makes a lot of sense. I had some trouble figuring out how I want Cato and Clove's relationship to progress, and it's hard to write about a Hunger Games victor realistically considering I have never been a similar situation (thank god, am I right?)

Anyways, so here it is. Hope you enjoy! Please review and tell me what you think! I'm hoping for **fifteen** reviews this time, but I might be pushing my luck.

Disclaimer: So I don't own the Hunger Games….. at all. But shout out to **Gemstoneopal **for an awesome review and for enjoying my awkward disclaimers! And thanks to all of my wonderful reviewers!

* * *

Sorry for the repost, but there were some very troubling errors that I wanted to fix. Anyways, enjoy! I added a few sentences, but you shouldn't feel compelled to reread the entire chapter for it. Don't forget to review!

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**Chapter 8**

For the first time in a very long time, I dream of my dad.

He appears before me, exactly the same as I remember him seven years ago.

"Daddy!" I squeal uncharacteristically. If there's one person in the world I love unconditionally, it's my dad.

He just smiles faintly, and opens his arm for a hug. Even though I know this must be a dream, I welcome his warm embrace. It feels different from the way I remembered the last time he hugged me though. When he was dying in the streets. I remember kneeling next to him, helpless and pathetic. That was when I learned that loving someone is a weight on your soul.

"What's wrong, Dad? Aren't you proud of me?" I pull back, and am met with a look I only know too well. Disappointment clouds his features, no matter how hard he tries to seem happy for me.

"What's wrong? I won! Just like you always wanted me to!" All of it, it was always for my dad. He believed in me when I was just a tiny six year old, when he gave me my first set of knives. Even when my mother thought I couldn't do it, he always thought I could be a victor. And now I am.

"Of course, sweetheart. It's just… you've changed so much. You're not the little girl I remember." Try as he might, the disappointment still clings to his words.

I step back, alarmed. "What do you mean?" I feel failure seeping into my bones. "Daddy?"

"I mean, Clove, that the Games changed you…. I didn't raise you that way."

I clench my fists. "You raised me to win, Dad."

"Yes, but at what costs?"

I grow defensive. "I did what I had to do! Don't you understand, I did what I had to do to survive!" I plead for his approval.

"All those dead children, six dead by your hand!"

- and there it is. The disgust that always creeps into a person when they think about what I did. The fear that I'm a monster. Even my own father can't stand the sight of me.

As I wake up, I realize I can't either.

.

It's funny when your memories finally sneak up on you. I kick a pebble while walking home from the Training Center today and something about the sight of it sends me hurtling back to the Arena, to the waterfall. My head pounds from my concussion-courtesy of Thresh- and I stumble towards the sidewalk. I shakily sit down on the curb and try to keep my face neutral. A few people walking by give me strange looks, but I just glare as best I can at them and they run off.

_Breathe Clove. You're in District Two. Everything is fine. You won the Games. You are safe. _

It must be because I am coming back from teaching a training session; they remind me of my time in the arena. I really hate the Training Center and all it reminds me of now. When I was younger, I couldn't get enough of it- I was always the first one in, last one out. But now, this monument to the Games leaves me a little sick to my stomach.

But when Lyme asks me to teach Careers in training, I agree. My days have been mind numbing, ridden with guilt. I can burn about an hour pointing Merino's camera at random objects, but that gets boring after about three minutes. People always seem to stare at me when I'm in town, and there really isn't so much in my life now that I'm done training.

So I agree to teach an introductory class on knife-throwing for children, expecting the worst.

You'd think that I would be terrible with kids, but I actually get along with them better than I do with most people. There's something about the fact that even District Two hasn't squished out the innocence in the littler ones that's refreshing. Raising kids up for slaughter isn't my favorite pastime,-but I figure, if the Capitol keeps taking them, the least I can do is prepare them the best I can.

With all the other victors teaching classes at the Training Center, I know I'm not the only one who wants to repent for their sins.

.

I look up and see Cato walking down the street. He doesn't teach at the Academy, but he's picked up metal forging as his talent, and gives away the swords he makes to the Training Center. I chew my lip- I still haven't gotten around to talking to Cato. Even though I promised myself that I would at the party, I've put it off for almost three weeks.

"Cato!" I call out to him as I get up from my seat on the sidewalk. "Wait up!"

He doesn't hear me, so I start to jog to catch up.

Then I realize that he did hear me, that he just doesn't want to talk to me.

Before the Games, I never questioned my relationship with Cato. It was what it was. But now, all I can do is worry that I'm saying the wrong thing, that one false move, and everything will be ruined.

-Like my life was so great before.

I stop jogging, and let him walk home alone.

.

Tara studies me with a long stare with her dark green eyes, so similar to my own hazel ones.

"Well, you look like shit."

I look up from where the window I've been staring blankly at for the past few hours. How long has she been there? How did she get in? I moved into my new Victor house a week ago, and have kept the door locked since. I never would have allowed Tara to sneak up on me before, but I can't bring myself to care.

Tara takes in my haphazard house and miserable state."You're fucking pathetic, Clove."

Before, if she had tried to say something like that, I would have already reduced her to tears. Those are fighting words, as far as I'm concerned. But I've been so tired lately, weakened from the Games in a way the Remakers will never be able to fix.

Instead, I roll my eyes. "Language, Taralynn." She hates her given name, as well as she should. It's embarrassingly girly.

"Clove, what's wrong with you? Get up!"

"No." I say petulantly. I slump down; rest my head on the mahogany table. "This is my house. You can show yourself out." My words lack the intensity they used to have.

"Like hell I will! What's wrong? Have you been drinking?"

I snort. "Not every victor turns pulls a Haymitch Abernathy." But that doesn't mean I haven't thought about it.

"Then why are you acting this way? Why don't you do anything?"

"Just leave me alone, Tara. I'm fine."

She scoffs. "You are not fine. You haven't talked to Mom or me since you moved out-"

"-I don't necessarily consider that a bad thing."

Ignoring the insult the best that she can, "-and it looks like you haven't eaten in forever."

Icily, I glare at her. Tara's only two years younger than me, and looking at her is like looking at myself before the Games. Selfishly, I am jealous that she looks so whole and unbroken. Like I used to. "I'm trying out that new 'emaciated' Capitol look. Don't I look swell?"

"Clove, you're such a pain in the ass. Seriously. Why are you so miserable?"

Her naiveté, her single-mindedness astounds me. "God, grow up Tara! Not everybody can be as freaking _joyful _about life as you."

She lets out a harsh, bitter laugh. "I don't understand you Clove! You have this fucking _perfect_ life- _Perfect _pretty Clove with her _perfect _knife throwing. _She never misses_." she imitates in a mocking voice. _Perfect_ with her _fucking_ first-ever joint win. With her _fucking perfect_ boyfriend falling at her feet. Not like she gives a _fuck_ about him, or anyone else."

My half-sister is literally the most insensitive person in the world, and that's considering myself too. With every word she hurls at me, I feel myself getting angrier and angrier. This _thing_ deep in my chest just unfurls and frustration overcomes me. It explodes through my body and courses through my body. I can't help it- I slap Tara across the face. Hard.

"How _dare _you. _How dare you_ judge me… and tell me my life is perfect!" I screech at her. "_My fucking perfect _life sucks! You don't know _shit_, Tara. You want my life? I'd give _anything_ to have never been reaped…. to never have to kill all those kids…I'm living in my own personal hell right now!" with my true feelings out in the open, I visibly deflate. She just gawks at me, cheek red. Her eyes are filled with tears- I've never hit her before. Just another person I've pushed away, I guess.

And suddenly, I find myself on the floor crying. I haven't cried since Daddy died- I must have forgotten how, because these great ugly sobs wrack my body. Grief is _painful_. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block Tara from view. Maybe she'll take the hint and leave me be.

No such luck. She drops down next to me, and stares at me with wide eyes. I've never seen her look so young. "Go away." I mumble, snot clogging my throat.

"I've never seen you cry before," she murmurs, more to herself than me.

"… I said, go away Tara. You couldn't possibly understand."

She looks at me with pity, which I think might be even worse than fear and disgust combined. "Clove… I can't understand… what… you're going through… but ….Cato might." I shake my head. I can't let Cato see me like this. "Who knows? He might be worse off than you."

I cough out something resembling a laugh. "I don't think that's possible."

She smiles, glad to see my snarky side emerging again. "It doesn't matter. Go to him, he'll want to help."

I won't, but I smile tightly and manage to nod, for her sake. She looks relieved. "You'll be alright Clove."

She seems troubled enough, so I just let her keep thinking that.

.

Even though I know Tara means well, I can't go to Cato. It's a pride thing. My training partner should never have to see me weak.

_He already has though_. I remind myself

He can't stand the sight of me. _That's not true either, really._

In my heart of hearts, I'm afraid that he's better off without me. We've both changed, and I don't think things can go back to the way they were before.

So for the meantime, I'll avoid the inevitable and pretend things with him can go back to before.

Instead, I go to Lyme, presumably to ask about my training class schedule next week. As I chew on some cookies she's offered, I can't bring myself to bring up my problems. So instead, I bring up topics neither of us cares about.

She finally cracks. "Clove, Tara came over a few days ago, worried about you. She says you've been having a hard time."

Of course Tara would meddle in my problems. I duck my head, cursing at her head in my head. "Yeah." I say softly, avoiding her eyes. "It's been rough ever since I had this drea- since I got back from the Capitol. She said you might be able to help."

She looks disappointed, and then stands up from the table. "I suppose you want some medication from the Capitol, pills, morphling?"

I look up, confused. "Wha- no! I won't take that shit. That's not what I want."

She sits back down, relieved, and a little proud of me. "Then what _do_ you want, Clove?"

The question stumps me. What do I want? When I was younger, the answer was simple. To win the Games, make my parents proud. But now that I actually have, I'm not so sure that was the right goal. "I want things to go back to the way they were." For now, that's the only thing I can think of.

She fixes me with her steely look "Feldspar. You should feel damn lucky you got to come out of the Games."

I nod; it's nothing I haven't told myself already.

"And you should be grateful that you came out with your district partner. He's the closest thing you've got to someone who understands you. Use your resources, girl." Lyme will always sound like my Career trainer to me. . I feel like I'm back at the Training Center, being punished for a subpar practice.

Her stern gaze softens a little though, in the face of my wretchedness. "Look Clove, the first year after the Games…. is always difficult. You just have to remember that whatever you had to do to get out, it wasn't your fault. Alright? Those kids dying, _it's not your fault_."

No matter what Lyme tells me, I can't believe that. With something feeling vaguely like self-loathing in my stomach, I leave.

.

That night, when I hear yells coming from next door, I know Cato needs me as much as I do him. As wrong as it is, I'm glad.

.

The next time I see Cato, I swallow my pride, and jog to his side.

"I figured we could walk together." I say breathlessly, not looking directly at him. Now that I'm next to him, I realize I don't quite know how to talk to him anymore either.

Starting this conversation is my way of saying sorry for blowing him off at my party, but his lack of response makes me regret even approaching him in the first place.

"So…. do you like your new house?" I question a little tentatively. Cato and his family just moved into Victor's Village a few days ago. Ordinarily the Capitol would usher the new victors right in, but District 2 has so many victors that they actually had to clear out more space for our houses. Because of my mother, I already live there, but still moved into my own house.

"It's alright." he says stiffly.

I drop the formalities. "Listen Cato…. are we just not going to talk anymore?" I'm trying my best to fix things, and we both know it. He relaxes a little bit.

He says, avoiding my eyes. "I just… I just need some time to sort stuff out." It's a gentle rejection, but still a rejection.

I force out a smile. "It's fine." And it is. I owe him that much. But it still hurts a little bit.

"Don't be like that, Clove."

I'm genuinely confused. "What?"

"Just … don't hide behind that phony Capitol smile anymore. It's okay to tell me the truth sometimes. You always used to."

It's always remarkable how Cato can be an idiot sometimes, and still see right through my bullshit. It's my favorite and least favorite thing about him.

"Fine, if we're being honest, then I'll just say it. I heard you screaming last night."

He draws in a quick intake of breath, thrown off guard for a second. The next moment, he regains his mask of arrogance. "Yeah, I was a little busy…." he trails off suggestively, wanting me to think the worst.

I roll my eyes. "If I don't bullshit, you don't bullshit either, Cato. We both know that wasn't it."

His cocky smirk falls flat. He straightens up, and says briskly, "I don't know what you're talking about then."

Why does he get to lie to me now? I look at him, straight in the eyes, for the first time since the train ride. As always, his piercing blue eyes catch me a little off guard. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You're having nightmares, admit it."

He seems a little startled with my own hazel eyes' insistence. Stubborn as ever though, he says sharply, "Clove. Drop it."

I purse my lips. If he doesn't want my help, then that's fine. _Stupid Clove. Like you could ever help anyone._

As we walk home in a tense silence, I get the sinking feeling that neither of us will be able to recover from our shared past.

.

I try to ignore his yells, but after a week of ignoring them, I can't take them anymore. In the middle of the night, I rip off my twisted sheets, and rush down the stairs. I race across the paved street in the dark, and fumble for the doorknob to his house. It's locked, but one quick twist with the knife I keep handy, and I'm in. The yells grow louder, and I finally reach his door.

There's no way he can deny having nightmares now, and the thought makes me feel a little triumphant. It's terrible, but I've always been sickly competitive.

Without a second thought, I push it open, and see Cato writhing on his bed, screaming at something I can't see.

The scene hits me deep, and I feel a pang of sympathy for him. Brutal, bloody Cato reduced to a boy with nightmares.

I clear my throat awkwardly. I have no idea what to do next. "Cato." I call out hesitatingly. "Cato, wake up."

Of course, he doesn't hear me, so I walk closer to his bedside, still trying to wake him up. It doesn't work- if anything, his nightmare is getting worse.

"No! No!" he cries hysterically, clawing at the air. "Clove!"

Hearing my own name makes me jump, and I wait nervously for what comes next.

"Clove, I'm coming! Stay with me!" he pleads. He must be dreaming about the Feast. I am briefly transported to that day, remembering Thresh approaching me with that rock. But then I snap out of it, Cato's thrashing around, and I'm almost scared he'll hurt himself.

I grasp his arm firmly, and shake him. "Cato. Wake up. It's just a dream."

He's still not waking up, dammit. "Cato. Come on. It's just a dream."

Still dreaming, he yanks his arm away. In a flurry of movement, I find myself tangled into the sheets with Cato. What the fuck? I try to push through limbs and sheets, but I get lost in the expanse of the bed. At this moment, Cato decides to start flailing again, and one of his arms smacks me in the face.

Amusing to the average bystander, yes, but not so amusing for me. Scowling, I am ready to rip Cato a new one, dream or no dream. But suddenly I stop.

He's crying. Tears collect in his scrunched up eyes, and he begs out for someone I can't see. "Please." he gasps. "Stay with me."

Frustration leaves my body, and I slowly untangle myself from him. I crawl over to Cato's back and pat it tentatively. "It's just a dream, you're safe." I whisper. He must have heard me somehow, because eventually, his breathing steadies.

After a few peaceful minutes, I sit up from my spot next to him. I keep stroking his back, hoping that for once, I can help him.

I watch his face for signs of a bad dream, and am relieved when there are none.

Until, that is, I see one of the corners of his mouth lift up a little bit. Is he… is he awake?

"Cato! Cato." I hiss. "Are you awake?"

His mouth turns down again, and I know he is. "You asshole!" I whisper-yell, as I smack his arm.

His lip starts quivering with suppressed laughter, and that just makes me angrier.

"I thought you were fucking asleep!"

"-I was! I woke up like a minute ago!" he gasps. "Oh Jesus, you were _spooning _me."

My face flushes, and I'm glad it's so dark in here. "I was _not. _It's not my fault you take up so much room."

"And you petted me! Who knew you were such a softie, Princess?" he's practically howling now.

"Fine. It's all a big joke. Well that shows me for trying to comfort you!" I start to get out of the bed, furious at being made a fool of.

He slowly stops laughing, and he reaches to grab my wrist. "Hey, hey. You know I don't mean it right? Clove. I didn't. Come sit down."

I try to shake off his arm, but he won't let go.

"Clove. I'm sorry. I… I… I'm just embarrassed. I hate for you to see me that way."

I twist my arm from his grip and swivel around to face him.

"What way?"I'm surprised to hear my voice relax. I really am turning into a softie. Maybe it's because I know how difficult it is to face your fears at night.

"You know… nightmares…. crying. It's pathetic."

I stare at him long and hard. Stupid Cato. He really is an idiot sometimes.

"Cato, there's _nothing_ pathetic about having bad dreams- especially after what we've been through. Hell, I can't even go to sleep." I nudge his leg to scoot him over, and he budges to make me some room. I sit facing forward, leaning against his headboard.

"I haven't slept since we left the Capitol," I confess. I wonder why I'm telling Cato this, but stop myself- who else _but_ Cato? "Every time I close my eyes, I see the arena- I can't go to sleep for more than an hour."

Cato frowns. "That sounds dangerous, Clove."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

He snaps back defensively. "I'm just saying, you could probably get sleeping pills from the Capitol."

I slump down the headboard. "I'm not relying on the Capitol for anything. I won't take anything from them I don't have to."

He sighs, wary beyond his years. "I don't blame you."

We sit there in a shared silence, both absorbed in our own nighttime fears. Almost tauntingly, the pleading eyes of the boy from District 10 assault me, so realistic it takes my breath away. They were a dark green, just like Tara's. It was almost enough to make me pause during the Games, but I killed him like I did all the others- with a smile.

Suddenly, I feel the need to know him. To know his name, and how old he was, and his life. To know that he was more than just another dead body. Call me a masochist, but I need to know that he will be _missed_, that he _mattered to someone_.

"What was his name?" I choke out desperately. "I need to know!" My voice becomes more and more frantic. Knowing the names of the dead won't change anything, and there's no way Cato would know, but at this moment, it's the only thing that matters.

"What?" Cato asks, almost concernedly. "Clove, what's wrong? What's happening?"

"-the district 10 boy… his name? We need to find out!"

"I think it was Roan." he soothes. "Shh… Clove. You're safe."

I twist to face him, demanding an explanation. _How did he know that? _Cato senses my confusion, and mumbles, "I've been watching the recordings of the Games. Lyme has all of them."

"Oh." I lay back, a little calmer. "Why?" I know why already, but I need Cato to explain his fears- so I can start understanding my own.

"I just… I think that's important that they're not forgotten. As long as I'm alive, they won't just be disposed-of Capitol dolls." His voice gets a little stronger, certainty laced through it. Cato's lost some of his assuredness since the Games, and I'm glad that parts of the old him aren't lost forever. I'm glad he can still be confident about some things- especially now that I'm so full of doubt.

"Can- can I maybe watch too?" My voice, in comparison, drips with uncertainty.

"Sure." Cato pretends that he couldn't care less about whether I watched with him, but I can tell it makes him feel better too.

I want to know more. "-and that little girl from Eleven? What was her name?"

"Rue."

Fitting that her name means regret. She flits through my sleepless nights, which is stupid- I didn't even kill her. But she was so_ young_. No one deserves to die _that_ young. I think of all their faces, so clear they could be next to me and Cato. None of them deserved to die _that _young, really.

Except for me. For killing them- heartlessly, relentlessly.

I can't breathe, as my misery chokes me again. I ask him, "Do you ever get this feeling… that you weren't supposed to come out alive? That it should have been someone else?"

He nods, jaw clenched tight. "Every day." He swallows hard, "Every time I see my parents, and Cassie, I know I am so damn lucky. I don't deserve any of this." He grabs my hand, holds it tight between his own. "I don't deserve any of this, but it's a second chance. I'm going to do things right from now on so maybe I can stop hating myself. And so I can do right by them."

When'd he get so damn _noble_? It might be all talk, or spur of the moment, but it makes me want to kiss him. But I can't do that to either of us when we've just made up. I just look up at him-with I'm sure are adoring eyes- and sink into the pillows. "Tell me about them."

And he does. He tells me all their names, and what they were like- like they were all old friends.

Drifting to sleep, I think that I would have liked that.

.

I open my eyes. I'm confused and disoriented. Where am I? Then I see Cato polishing his sword next to me and remember what just happened.

"How long was I out?" I croak out, not even put off by the fact Cato brings heavy weaponry to his bedside.

"About two hours," he answers.

So many things between us are left unsaid, but I know we've reached an agreement. We won't ever be the same people, but- eventually- we'll get better. Together.

Sleeping in the same bed as him, I am drawn to him in a way that would ruin everything. But for our own sakes, I tell myself to ignore it. _Later_, I think. _In time_. _Not now- not when things are just getting better. _

It'd be safer for me to ease into my newly kindled friendship with Cato slowly, warily. But I can't help myself, can't possibly distance myself from him and the warmth I feel right now.

I choose my words carefully. I don't want him to get the wrong impression. "Maybe… maybe we can sleep together." -This is not coming out right. Cato raises his eyebrow as he lies down next to me. "-You know what I mean. This- this is the first night I've gotten some peace. If we both get scared, there's no point in us… I mean it might help if we just- you're the only one who underst-"

Cato turns his head to watch me as I struggle over my words. "Clove. Go back to sleep."

.

And that's how I get my first real night's sleep after the games.

.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **To all my lovely readers, I'm soooo sorry I haven't updated in so long. My sincerest apologies, really. My internship leaves me with like no time for other activities. I tried to give you a nice long chapter in apology, but it ended up being pretty much the same length as all the others. Sigh.

But I'm actually happy with how this chapter turned out, even though I gave up for about a week before picking it back up. So please, tell me what you think! Let's see if we can hit **70** reviews!

Disclaimer: If I owned the Hunger Games, Cato would have run to Clove at the Feast during the movie. SO MUCH RAGE.

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

.

"My point is, your sister is much too young to be seriously involved with a boy."

I'm sitting at my mother's kitchen table, chatting while choking down some spinach. Ever since Tara discovered that I was depressed and miserable, my mother has forced me to come over and eat vegetables. She's convinced it has something to do with a vitamin deficiency.

In the last two weeks or so, I have felt better- so maybe it actually has helped.

I swallow, and try to remain neutral. I don't want to get in between one of their arguments. "Tara's fifteen, Mom. I think that she's old enough to start make her own decisions. Besides, I don't think that it's anything serious." I maneuver carefully because I can't believe that my mother would be happy with my own nighttime arrangement with Cato.

We're not doing anything, so she shouldn't be upset, but there's something awfully suspicious about two teenagers spending their nights together cooped up in a bedroom.

Nothing's happened, but I've started to wish something has. _Damn hormones. _

I can't complain though. My life's gotten a lot more bearable lately. Tara and I have been getting along better, my mother actually cares about my wellbeing, and I've gotten at least eight hours of sleep every night. And I get to spend time with Cato, which makes me happier than I'm willing to admit to myself or anybody else.

So all in all, I'm a lot happier. Don't get me wrong- the Games still haunt me, and I get these flashbacks almost every day. But things seem a lot more manageable.

"Well, she does go through these boys pretty quickly. You're right, it's just a fling." It's cute watching her actually using her maternal instincts and not being as distant as before. "Clove, could you go and get me a protein supplement?" My mother's Career days might be behind her, but she still keeps in pristine shape.

I agreeably go into the kitchen to rummage through the cabinet for the supplements my mother wants, but instead, my hand closes around an unfamiliar little bottle. Curious, I take it out, and read the label.

It's all medical jargon really, but several words jump out at me. _Anti-depressant. Ingest with food. Mood stabilizer. _And now I understand the meals my mother has been forcing on me. My head feels curiously hollow, and there's a ringing noise in my head. I can't believe she's been drugging me.

Calmly, I shut the cabinet door, still holding that little bottle of pills in my palm. Mother looks expectantly at me, and her eyes immediately flick to my clenched hand. My mother is cunning, I'll give her that much; she pretends she hasn't seen it and refuses to bring it up on her own.

I struggle to keep my voice level. "What's this?"

She finally relents, and looks at the container. She breezily brushes it off, "Oh, that's nothing. Just an old bottle of pills. They're long expired."

I can't believe she can just tell such blatant lies to my face. I reply testily, "Oh really? They're old? Then why does the label say they were issued _two weeks_ ago?"

Finally caught, my mother exhales. "Fine. I've been …_slipping_ them into the food for the past two weeks. But I was doing it for your own good!"

I'm not really listening though, instead shaking my head to stop these stupid tears from coming out. "I can't believe you don't even think I'm capable of getting my own shit together!" I scream. "I _told_ you I didn't want _anything_ from the Capitol."

"Your health isn't something to be stubborn about Clove. We were worried about you, and the Capitol was happy to help!"

"_We?_ You and Tara both wanted to drug me up so I wouldn't go kill myself? God, I can't believe this- actually I can."

"… and what is that supposed to mean?"

"It _means _that obviously you two were _scheming_ behind my back. It's always you and Tara against me, and I'm sick of it!"

"Stop being childish. We just wanted what was best for you!"

"You thought I needed Capitol pills to get my life together? Way to have faith in me. Stop pretending that you want what's best for me! The cold truth is that you never cared the _slightest _bit about me. You only have eyes for your precious _Tara, _and you didn't give a shit about me until I won the Games. Which you thought I couldn't do. You always told me to give up- Dad was the only one who ever believed in me!"

My mother has tears in her eyes. In the back of my mind, I savagely congratulate myself for reducing the great Atlanta Goodridge to tears. "Clove- I always thought you could do it- I just didn't want you to get reaped!"

I don't even stop to consider this. "Bullshit, Mom. Stop pretending you care about me. I know I'm just the mistake- that you got knocked up with me. No wonder you left me and Dad and ran off with some Capitol prick."

Her eyes grow cold. "Don't talk about things you don't understand, Clove. You have no idea what was actually going on."

"I know that you abandoned us. That you got pregnant with Tara, so that guy left you. And I know that you have no faith in me whatsoever. I think that's all I _need _to know."

With that, I storm out of the house, my head held high and my mind painfully clear.

.

"So how's the photography going?"

I look up from the notes I'm taking after we've finished another upsetting Games video- the 70th this time. The victor, a girl named Annie Cresta, went mad afterwards.

Cato and I have decided to make a book to honor all the tributes from the Games. After each recap, we carefully record down all the tributes' names, before we watch the other footage and interviews. I usually write- my handwriting's much better- and Cato dictates, because he has a much better memory and a sharper eye when it comes to finding information on the tributes. Every little thing they do, he picks up on. He's observant that way.

My hand aches, so I willingly drop my pen. "It's going okay. I feel like an idiot though when I just randomly point my camera at things. I don't know what to take pictures of."

He leans back on the sofa and puts his arms behind his head arrogantly. "You could take pictures of me- I'm sure the Capitol would love that."

"Ha ha." I say sarcastically. "I mean, it would be an effective way of blinding themselves. I'll think about it."

He pouts, and my heart flutters for just a second. "Just trying to help."

"Yeah, real good advice. How's the metal-forging going?"

"Okay, a little boring. I don't know how to do anything besides swords and knives, though. I want to move onto other stuff. Could you help me?"

I roll my eyes from my position sitting on the floor. "How could I help you with that?"

"Wasn't your dad the best ironsmith in Two?"

My stomach drops. I can't believe I forgot that. "Yeah… yeah he was." I must look upset, because Cato sits up from his reclining position.

"Hey Clove. It's fine, I can get somebody else to help me." He looks at me hard. "You must really miss him, huh?"

"I do." I say softly. Then I shake off my emotions. "I'm fine."

"Clove." He says my name just once, but I can tell that Cato doesn't believe me. He really is observant.

"I'm just a little unstable from my argument with my mother earlier today." The truth slips out. I wasn't planning on telling Cato about it, but something about him always makes my secrets come pouring out.

"What was it about?"

I shake my head as I get up to sit on the couch. "It's just stupid- she slipped some anti-depressants into my food."

His fists clench. "I can't believe she did that. Unbelievable."

"I know right?" Sometimes, Cato is my best ally because we're so alike. "She was worried that I was going to kill myself or some shit like that. But she obviously just thought I wasn't strong enough to handle it."

His face becomes troubled. "She thought you were going to kill yourself? Were you that bad off?"

"No, no… I mean I was pretty miserable, but I don't think I would have killed myself."

He buries face in his hands, rubs his eyes hard with the heels of his hands. "Why didn't you come to me- never mind. Don't be so harsh on her; she was just worried about you."

This swift about-face leaves me feeling betrayed. I thought Cato was on my side. "She fucking _drugged_ me." I say slowly, as if I were talking to a particularly slow child. "She thought I wasn't strong enough to handle it, that I needed to resort to the Capitol's help."

"She wanted was best for you, Clove. She was obviously concerned you weren't going to make it!"

"Well I'm sick of everyone's pity! And I can manage my own life! Or maybe they're all right, and I really am as_ weak_ as they think I am! It was stupid for me to think that I could get better all by myself. But either way, I don't want help from anyone, much less pity!"

He scoffs. "It's not _pity_, stop being so proud."

"That's exactly what it is! You- you don't get it! _You_ always get respect, but it's not the same for me! People always try to limit me, or think they have me all figured out, or something. Like oh, she's small, she must be fragile, she'll never _win_. Or she's a Career, she can't _possibly_ have a heart. They only see what they want to see! I'm fucking more complex than that, dammit. My mom only sees me as this fuck-up, and Tara only sees me as competi-"

"Clove, I know you're pissed off right now, but that's not tru-"

"And _you_," I cut him off with a glare and a pointed finger. "You're the worst of all. You always want me to be things that I'm not. One day, you want an ally. Fine. But then, all of a sudden, we're _meant to be_, or some shit like that. What the fuck? And sometimes we're best friends, and sometimes all we do is fight. What do you _want_ from me?" I end my crazed, pathetic rant breathlessly.

This stumps him for a minute.

But Cato- the evasive bastard- answers my question with another question. "Don't worry about me. What do you want from yourself?" God, he must have gotten into Lyme's psychobabble books. Who knew he could even read?

I gape at him, taken aback. "Does that really matter to you?" I ask skeptically.

"Of course. You always matter to me." He says it so simply, I'm suspicious, naturally. I tilt my head and study him through squinted eyes. I search his blue eyes for a speck of deceit, and find none.

So I kiss him.

It's supposed to make him stop talking, but to be honest, I've been wanting to for a while.

It's supposed to be a simple, safe peck to test the waters of our relationship.

But then, he pulls me onto his reclining body and slides his hand to rest on the curve of my back, and I know I'm royally fucked.

.

No matter how firmly I tell myself to not start anything with Cato, I still let myself enjoy the kiss. Just for a little bit. He pulls me flush to his body, and I feel my own arms twine themselves behind his neck. We haven't kissed in two months- since the arena- but we fit together like we haven't lost a day of practice. His lips move slowly against mine, and I cautiously slip out my tongue to taste them. A low groan emits from deep within his chest, and I smirk against his mouth. Cato feels my smugness, and flips us over so that I'm pinned beneath his unyielding body. I sink into the couch cushions, completely engulfed by his body.

Damn, he's _good_- this feels fucking amazing.

I'm breathless, desperate for more and without really thinking about the consequences, I hitch my leg over his waist. Cato tries to stifle a shudder. Almost as if in retaliation, he begins to nip at the soft column of my thin neck. I can't help it- a drawn-out moan leaves my lips- and I flush in embarrassment. Cato chuckles and his fingers start to play with the hem of my shirt. As he tries to pull it up, his actions wane just enough in intensity that I regain my senses.

Furious at him for successfully distracting me, and furious at myself for succumbing to my hormones, I shove him off me, sending him tumbling to the floor.

It is quiet for a few moments.

Cato sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "What the fuck, Clove?"

I cross my arms defensively. My hair's mussed, and my lips still tingle a little. "I should ask you the same. Way to _attack_ me."

He rolls his eyes as he sits back down on the couch, far too close to my legs. "If I remember correctly, Princess, you jumped on me first."

I freeze at his point, and can feel a blush spreading on my cheeks again. "I was proving_ a point_. God."

Cato turns to face me, puts his arm along the back of the couch. "And what _point_ would that be? Care to enlighten me?"

There wasn't really a point, and my mind races for a possible explanation. "My point was that, given the chance, you'll try to _seduce me_ in a second! I thought we we're done with the mind games!"

Cato's face curls into a sneer, he spits out. "I'm the one with mind games? You're always hot and cold with me, Clove. You can't just kiss me and push me away at the same time. I'm tired with whatever you're playing at." His eyes drop to his clenched fists. "I'm tired of all of this."

I realize that my confusion has hurt Cato the most, and feel almost guilty. Should I tell him that it was a mistake? Or that I can't help feeling something for him- but I'm unwilling to give the Capitol more ways to hurt me? That no matter what I tell him, spending my night with him is the highlight of my day? He expects an apology- or at least some sort of response, but as I open my mouth, I am at a loss about what to say. I can't lose Cato. I can't.

Suddenly, Cassie barrels in through the door. "Mom said you were watching movies. Can I watch too?"

Thank God for small miracles- or rather, thank God for Cassie. Startled, Cato and I move to opposite sides of the couch. Cato looks pissed off, while I smile innocently at Cassie. "I'm not sure you want to watch these kinds of movies, Cass."

Cato, sensing an opportunity to get me alone again, jumps in. "Yeah, midget. It's old Games footage- not really family friendly."

Cassie wrinkles her little nose, disgusted. "Oh. Never mind then." Her face brightens again though. "Can we watch something else instead?"

Cato opens his mouth, a little frustrated at his little sister's antics. "Cass, we're busy. Maybe tomorrow afternoon?"

Cassie sighs melodramatically. "Finnee." She turns to leave.

Realizing this is the only chance I might get to escape, I say quickly. "Cassie, wait up! Er.. I should get going too. It's almost my um… bed time." I have never had a bedtime in my life.

Cassie stops to wait, but Cato waves her off, never taking his eyes off me. "Ignore her, Cassie. We're going to keep watching."

She furrows her brow just like Cato does when he's confused. "What if she gets tired? You don't expect her to _sleep_ here, do you?"

I smirk. Cato's family has no idea that that's exactly what we do every night, and we want to keep it that way. "Right you are, Cassandra. I'm getting a little sleepy." I get up off the couch, avoiding Cato's glare.

Once I have safely crossed the threshold, I hazard a glance back at Cato sprawled out on the couch. "See you tomorrow?"

Cato's blue eyes are drilling holes into the back of my head, and something in them promises that this isn't over yet.

.

Of course, once I leave, I figure out that I probably can't sleep tonight without Cato by my side. To pass the time, I walk through Two with Merino's camera.

At night, there's no one staring at me, judging me. Just my even breathing and silent footsteps.

I start by taking pictures of anything that holds my attention for more than three seconds, but eventually I start to actually take pictures that matter to me. The Justice Building shrouded in moonlight. The abandoned storefront where my dad used to sell his weapons. The Training Center, always looming ominously. I decide that just like the book Cato and I are making in memory of all past Games, I should keep some photos of things that I find important. In memory of myself, I guess- so the Capitol won't be able to change me anymore than they already have.

As I amble through the district, I have almost made peace with myself. I reach the outskirts of town and the mountain that contains the Capitol's control center gradually appears. Only Peacekeepers are supposed to know exactly where it is, but Cato's dad, who's Head Peacekeeper in the district, told us about all about the Command Room once when he got tipsy.

My state of inner tranquility is momentarily shattered. Even though I want to move past the Games and get on with my life, I'll never be able to forget what the Capitol has done to me. What the Capitol will continue to do to twenty four children each year. I find one of the secret entrances Cato's dad told us about and proceed to hurl rocks at it. I chuck them at the security cameras by the door with all the energy I can muster. The security cameras shatter, but the Command Room stays unchanged, impervious to my anger.

Try as I might, the Capitol is here to stay.

.

I'm a little riled up after that, so I keep walking through the mountain range. My feet absentmindedly lead themselves, and I end up at the gorge I used to visit after training. It's got wicked acoustics, and I liked to throw rocks and watch them bounce down into nothingness. Once Cato followed me there, and we started going together. And eventually, I stopped minding that we shared my secret hiding spot.

Nevertheless, I still think of it as _my_ secret hide out, so I stop short when I see someone already sitting there.

It's Cato, flinging rocks down the gorge. He looks angry, probably at me, so I don't get any closer lest he hears my footsteps. I just stand there watching him for longer than what is probably considered normal.

Almost hesitantly, I raise up my camera and take a picture of him at my gorge. It's creepy, taking pictures at a distance, but he matters to me too.

.

The next day at Training class, I'm in a remarkably good mood and knowing that it has nothing to do with Capitol pills makes me even happier. The kids catch on and figure they can get away with more than usual. At first I let them swing at each other, but after a while the sound of children screaming is too much for me to handle.

"Alright! That's enough." I growl. "Get to your respective targets. Start at the five foot mark, and then move back if you're up for the challenge."

I eye some of the stronger boys who simply launch the blade into the target. "And I want to see proper form," I threaten. Although knife throwing is a useful survival skill, there's also a beauty and grace to it. Elegant in its simplicity.

Caught up in my own thoughts, I wipe the dreamy smile from my face when I see a few kids eyeing me worriedly. I snarl at them and order them to get back to practicing.

I really like knives, okay? It's one of the things that resulted from my training that I won't give up. My surly disposition is waning, and my icy heart is thawing, but I'm keeping my blades.

I circle the room, critiquing some of those with shit technique, and giving approving nods to the ones who have mastered the flick of the wrist. No one's really at my level of prodigy, but what can you do?

I stop at Cole, a sturdy ten-year old. He's doing pretty well with the knives, but his heart isn't really into it. Knives are the first sharp objects the Academy gives the children, so usually the trainees handle them with excitement and glee. I wish I could teach them to treat violence grudgingly, but it's a hard lesson to learn, and I'm not quite ready to share my own feelings.

Cole handles the blades carefully, but almost like it ails him to touch them. "What's wrong?" I squat down so we're at eye level.

He squints at the blade. "What's the point?"

I cock my head. "The point is to get better at throwing knives. Obviously."

"No, I mean, the point in training. You and Cato trained your entire lives, and you still ran into problems in the arena. What are we doing wrong? Career districts should sweep the Games."

I purse my lips, memories tearing through my mind. Before I went into the arena, I thought it would be a piece of cake. But surviving was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. Other than living with the consequences.

I clear my troubled mind with a start. He's expecting an answer. "They expect us to be the best- the most vicious. No matter how good we are, they expect it out of us. That's why Katniss got so far- she took them by surprise."

"Who?" I forget sometimes that not everyone has memorized every single one of those names.

"The District 12 girl." To everybody else, she's just a number.

"I don't want to be like that when I got into the arena. I want to be remembered- even if I die."

His ignorant bliss is so precious, I shouldn't smash it. But my mean streak wins out, and I say harshly. "You're only remembered if you win."

"That's not true. You can be _different_."

God, this kid is so precocious it hurts. I want to smack some sense into him, but there's always a big fuss when I hit the trainees. "Any tribute from Two is going to be the same. Bloodthirsty and ruthless."

"I wish there was a way to show them that we're more than that."

"Don't we all?" I sigh as I stand back up. "You're too smart for your own good, you know that?" I tousle his hair rather violently. "Now get back to training. Your stance needs work."

.

Not long after my chat with Cole, I dismiss the class. They all trail out the door, moaning about sore arm muscles while I trail behind them to lock up. I wave them off with a condescending smirk- little pansies, all of them.

My smugness drains when I see Cato leave the weapons room, no doubt after donating some of his weapons. Things are still unresolved- but my nighttime stroll has cleared up a lot of my doubts.

"Cato!" I call out as I rush towards him. "I wanna talk."

His eyes immediately dull. "Fine." he sighs. "I promise not to molest you this time." His sarcasm isn't appreciated, so I punch him in the arm.

"Well, asshole, I wanted to apologize for blaming you… for… um what happened. You're right. I… uh...kissed you first."

He has this damn condescending grimace on. He is loving every minute of this. "And?" He prompts.

I scrunch my eyebrows. "And what?"

He sighs, bored at my apparent stupidity. "And why did you decide to attack me?"

I flush. "I didn't _attack_ you." I grind out, fists clenched.

"Yes, yes you did. And I want to know why, so I can be prepared for your next pissy mood swing."

I clench my jaw. "My… _piss_y… mood swings," I repeat slowly.

"Yup," he responds, popping the 'p' obnoxiously. "And I realized you're a hypocrite. You always yell at me for confusing you, but truth is, you're much, much worse."

How can he even think that? I furiously cross my arms. Right when I've decided to flick him in the eye, an eighteen-year old floozy launches herself at Cato. "Cato!" she squeals. "I heard that you were here!" She starts to babble about how much she was rooting for him to win without even sparing me a glance.

My mouth hangs open at her insolence. And when it's obvious that she's not going to stop anytime soon, I clear my throat. "Cato. I'll be waiting over there," I nod my head over to the Training Academy's entrance.

He nods absentmindedly. I fully expect him to wrap up the conversation, but he lets her keep talking and even starts furthering the dialogue. What a bastard.

I growl, jaw clenched. With my arms crossed tightly across my chest, I catch Cato's eye. He fucking smirks at me. He knows he's making me wait. I struggle to ignore the urge to go wring his neck because I know that's what he wants. I'd be playing right into his hands.

I tap my foot impatiently. God, does he have to flirt with her right in front of me? I wait what feels like an eternity, then just give up and stomp away, my scowling face effectively clearing me a path all the way to the Victor's Village

.

Cato's about to knock on my front door until a knife whizzes by and skims the shell of his ear. He jumps back and flicks his head around looking for me.

"What the fuck Clove?"

He still doesn't see me, and it's with great satisfaction I step out of the shadows. I silently tread behind him, stretch on my tiptoes so that my mouth just barely grazes against his ear.

"Is this what you would call a pissy mood swing?" I whisper harshly, then step back as he whips around to face me.

"Are you fucking crazy? That could have hit me!"

I snort. "I wasn't trying to hit you, and I never miss. I thought about it though, believe me."

He raises his eyebrows. "Calm down, Princess. What's wrong?"

Genuinely taken by surprise how dense Cato can be, I sputter. "What- what do you mean what's wrong? You _completely_ ignored me back there even though we were in the middle of a conversation. And then you just let me wait for you like half an hour!"

He struggles to bite back a smirk. "It was actually only four minutes."

I stop, not quite sure what that means. "…Well still…"

Slowly but surely, Cato's shit-eating grin makes its appearance. "Jealous, Princess?"

I ignore his accusation and instead growl out, "I should kill you." I maneuver past him toward my front door and unlock the door.

"But you won't, will you?" he smirks cheekily.

Trying to keep my face emotionless, I don't answer. Instead, I step inside, and slam the door in his face.

But that would be too easy. Cato quickly sticks his hand out and stops the door from shutting. Fighting my attempts to close the door, he grips the door so tightly that the wood splinters under his grip. "Aren't you going to invite me in, Princess?"

I struggle to push the door shut. "No, actually I wasn't."

Too late, he's already pushed through and strode into my hallway. Fuck.

"I hate you, you know that?" he asks, staring out my kitchen window.

I stand gape-mouthed, door still open, hand still on the knob; stunned that Cato would even _try_ to come into my house without my permission.

He turns to face me, dangerous blue eyes flashing. "You don't even _know_ what you do to me- that you have this _control _over me. And I'm fucking sick of it. Of acting like a pussy so you know how I feel. Of you ignoring me, because you know I'll always be right where you left me." He continues, but I stop listening.

Because this whole time he's been yelling at me, I can't help but smile. Because with the old Cato back, with him being brutally honest with me, I can see clearly again. Sure, he's being a pain in the ass, but I finally understand that I wouldn't have him any other way. I finally realize that somewhere along the way, I've fallen for Cato.

I don't just _care _about Cato, I'm well on my way to loving him. I think I've known all along.

He's in his own world now, so he doesn't notice that I've slowly crossed the room to stand right in front of him.

For the second time in twenty four hours, I take the plunge and kiss Cato right on the lips.

.

Cato is successfully distracted for a few seconds, but then pulls back. His expression is suspicious. "What now, Clove?"

It hurts a little that he's so guarded around me. But I deserve it. I look down at my shoes, wondering how to start. "I was jealous today."

I look up, hoping that he'll just spare me this humiliation. But for once, Cato waits patiently for me to continue. I mumble, "And you have control over me too."

"What?" Cato didn't even hear me. Dammit, I have to repeat myself. Still avoiding his eyes, I grit my teeth.

I swallow thickly. "I want to give us a chance, okay?"

"What?"

Kill me now. "I want to be with you, goddammit!" Frustrated, I lift my eyes to meet Cato's. He's grinning like an idiot. "…You heard me the first time, didn't you?"

His back is curved so that our faces are practically touching. "Damn right I did Clo." This time, we both lean in, and our lips meet in the middle.

I smile into his lips that fit perfectly against mine and put my arms around his neck. Our bodies in sync, he lifts me up with an arm around my waist as I simultaneously wrap my legs around his waist. He pushes me up against the wall, and I sigh at the forceful impact. After a few blissful, carefree seconds though, he pulls away. I pout, and try to catch his lips again by tightening my arms around his neck. He laughs, but leans away so I can't get to him.

He looks at me with crafty eyes, knowing that he has the upper hand. "And who was right all along?" He mockingly taps his bottom lip with his finger.

I stare at the motion, transfixed. He could probably get me to say anything right now. I admit, "You, Cato." I dead pan. "You were right all along, and I continue to bow down to your mightiness." I pause. "But seriously. I'm sorry for the way I've been acting."

He's satisfied, and rests his forehead against mine while we both catch our breath. Right when he is about to swoop in again, he remembers something else. "Let's be clear. This doesn't change anything alright? We're not going to be one of those lame-ass, phony couples that think they're perfect."

Still sandwiched between him and the wall, I snort. "We could never be perfect. We're both damaged. I'm a bitch and selfish and -"

"-and unhinged and impulsive and stubborn and cocky -" He jumps in, clearly been saving these for a while. "-and paranoid and abrasive and annoying and clueless as fuck sometimes. I know." Right when I'm about to punch him in the face, kiss be damned, he ends with, "But that doesn't matter to me."

Just like that, I'm back to wanting to kiss him again- and he claims I'm the one with all the control? "And you're a horny, arrogant, self-absorbed asshole with anger management problems." I smile prettily, "But I wouldn't have it any other way." When he opens his mouth to add something, I cut him off, "Now shut up and kiss me."

With nothing more really to say, he shrugs with that cocky little smirk of his and pushes me back up against the wall.

.

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	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

**AN:/ **OHMYGOSH. I'm soooo sorry for the delay. I had the worst writer's block, then I got my wisdom teeth taken out, and then my internship was being annoying. Anyways, I'm really sorry.

So this is chapter ten, I tried to give a little more insight into Cato and how Clove and Cato are adjusting.

But guys, I really am sorry for the delay. The only thing that motivated me after a while was knowing that there were so many people enjoying this story. Show your support by **reviewing this chapter**! Please tell me how you liked it, and if you like the direction I'm taking this story in.

REVIEW.

Disclaimer: FML, I still don't own the Hunger Games.

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Later that same day, Cato and I are devouring some cake from the bakery across town. We sit across from each other at my kitchen table, digging in directly to the cake, not even bothering with slices. The decadent chocolate is so rich, my stomach almost hurts- but I can't help feeling like celebrating.

I beam at Cato, a small smile gracing my face. I don't say anything; just enjoy the moment while it lasts.

He's still shoveling in the dessert. I called quits after eating about a quarter of it, but more than two-thirds of the cake is gone now. An impressive feat, considering we got the largest cake there.

I watch Cato in fascination, but he pays me minimal attention, only stopping to look at me when chugging some water to clear his throat. I roll my eyes and my attention lands on my camera lying on the other end of the table. I reach over for it nonchalantly, and then quickly snap a picture of Cato stuffing his face.

The noisy shutter rouses him from his binge session. Startled, he looks up, mouth hanging stupidly, with crumbs smeared across his face. Unable to help myself, I take a picture of this too.

My soft smile returns to my face as I look over the pictures I just took. Eyes not leaving the camera screen, I snicker, "You don't even like dessert, Cato."

"But I like you, Princess."

My eyes snap up to his, sparkling with laughter. "You're so lame, Cato. When'd you get so sappy?"

He winks at me, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I think you meant to say _sweet_."

I look away, half in embarrassment, half in amusement. Then I remember myself; swallow the smile that's been sneaking onto my face far too often these days. I stand up, bringing my plate to the sink for my maid to do later.

Cato gets up, hands me his plate to put in too. "Speaking of sweet, you look pretty goddamn adorable right now."

I try to scowl at him, but my cheeks feel hot. Why am I _pretty _and _cute_, when he's _gorgeous_ and _hot _and _handsome_? "I'm not having sex with you right now, Cato," I drawl, leaning against my counter top.

"Well, not right now _right now_…." he drifts off suggestively, hopping to sit on my counter. "But you look beautiful right now, I'd like to just admire for a moment." He tilts his head to get a good look at me. His eyes trail down every inch of my body, and I can practically feel him undressing me. I fidget and shuffle my feet and have to hide the tremble of arousal. When his eyes rest on my chest, which has grown considerably now that I've stopped training 24/7, I fold my arms across myself self-consciously.

His eyes darken when my arms squeeze my breasts together even more. "You're not helping yourself, Clo."

"Cato." I sigh, reprimanding. Inside I feel a little triumphant though. _Ha_, I think. _You're not the only one with sex appeal. _

His gaze meets mine, not even a little regretful. "Such a pretty, innocent face. If I didn't spot at least two hickeys on your neck, I would have mistaken you for an angel."

I yelp, and slap my hands over my neck in an attempt to hide them. "It's your fault, asshole. You were the one who gave them to me!"

He just laughs it at. Cato's proud of those marks, damn him. "You might want to hide those if you don't want people to know about us." His chuckles abruptly stop. "When are we going to tell people about us?"

The hazy spell surrounding me breaks. I carefully lower my hands from my neck. Carefully, I mumble, "Uh, I don't know if that's a good idea." I squint at his cheek, avoid his intense stare. "By the way, there's crap on your face."

He brushes off the last part, aware that I'm just trying to change the topic. "Why? Scared?"

I roll my eyes. "Yes- your little mob of fan girls might just rip me to pieces." The smudge of chocolate on his cheek is actually mocking me now. "Cato, seriously. Wipe your mouth, for God's sake."

He just tries to read me with his electric eyes. Feeling self conscious, I decide to assault his cheek with a towel. Careful to keep a safe distance, I carefully wipe his face.

Ever the opportunist, Cato reaches out for me and pulls me close. Cradling me with his arms around my waist, he finally catches my gaze. "You could take all those girls with your eyes closed."

I am ridiculously flustered at the close proximity. I stammer- which I never do- "B-but why go through all that trouble?" _It's just Cato. _I tell myself, and I regain a stable state of mind. "I'd be robbing the district of some quality prostitutes in a few years."

He chuckles at that. "True, the economy would probably crumble to pieces." He looks deep into my wide eyes. "But I think it's cute that you're overprotective."

My hand, which previously was resting softly on his face with the napkin, drops the towel to the floor. I quickly pinch his cheek with my wiry, thin fingers. Cato grimaces, and I grin back at him. "More like the complete opposite." In his moment of distraction, I step neatly out of his grip.

.

My timing has never been better, because just as I put a respectable distance between myself and Cato, Cassie bursts in.

"Clove?" she calls from the doorway, "Have you seen Cato?"

Cato and I share a look- _Please don't tell her, not now_, I plead with big eyes. He purses his lips, but finally relents. He shouts back, "In here, Cass."

Cassie skips in, angel hair flopping down her back in a sweaty mess. Two in mid-June is sweltering. "Mom and Dad say that you have to watch me tonight. They have to go to some boring Peacekeeper Ceremony, and I can't go- no kids allowed."

Cato groans, realizing that looking after Cassie will prevent him from getting into my pants. "Munchkin, can't you just go with them?"

"It's not like I _want_ to stay home with you. You make the worst dinners." Cassie juts her chin out, a signature Clove Feldspar move. Watching her mirror my movements makes my mouth turn up in the corners.

Sensing an argument brewing, I attempt to distract her, "Hey, Cass? You want some of that cake? You can bring some of it back to your parents too."

Cassie turns to the cake sitting at the table, and her eyes light up. "Sure! Daddy loves chocolate."

Cato mutters, "Suck up." Nevertheless, he affectionately tousles Cassie's hair, then smoothes it back into place.

Watching Cato be so gentle with Cassie, seeing him so removed from his Career persona, is when I first realized Cato was something special, all those years ago. I delicately cut off the edges where Cato's fork hacked at the cake. I want to give Cato's parents a good impression of me- they still intimidate me a little bit. "Apologize to him for me then, Cato ate most of it."

Cassie giggles nervously, "It's alright. It can be my pre-birthday cake." Cassie's twelfth birthday is coming up, and it's all she can ever talk about. Last year, it was because she was excited to turn eleven- but this year, it's because she's scared to turn twelve.

An uneasy silence falls over the kitchen. I'm positive someone will be available to volunteer in her place, but the first year of reaping is always nerve-wracking. I clear my throat loudly. "… Well, we need to have a pre-birthday celebration then." I'm literally pulling words out of thin air, attempting to cover the awkward silence. But my idea isn't completely terrible. "How about you and Cato come over, watch one of those dopey movies the Capitol gave me?"

Cassie's grin reappears, even if it is considerably dimmer. "That sounds way better than a Cato dinner. Thanks! I'm off to watch those old men play chess down the street!" Just like that, Cassie bounces out of the house.

Cato turns to me, eyes still worried for Cassie's sake. "Cato," I start an attempt to comfort him.

He brushes me off though, "After all that, she forgot the cake." He doesn't want to talk about it now, and I can respect that.

Cato picks up the rest of the cake. "Walk me to the door?" he asks.

Shrugging, I follow him to the front door. Before I can open the door for him though, his hand presses against the door, keeping it shut. "When are we going to tell people?"

I sigh. "Cato… I'm just not up for it right now." I cover my face with one hand, and rub my eyes warily. "Why can't we just keep it between us for now?"

He's quiet for a moment. "I don't know why we have to keep this a secret." His voice carries a soft, hard edge to it.

I tilt my face up to look him in the face. "It's safer this way, I think." My voice is tinged with worry. "From the Capitol."

His eyebrows furrow, "They want us to be together."

"Yeah, but they know we were at least half-faking. And I dunno, the way Merino was acting… something's telling me that we shouldn't be so public." It's not the whole truth, but I do get this sense that something isn't quite right. The Victory Tour's been postponed twice, which never happens. There was a shortage in food, which also never happens- in District Two, at least. President Snow's look when he crowned us. More Peacekeepers in the streets.

Cato's tired of talking about this, I can tell. He doesn't buy my reasoning, but lets it go for now, and with a sigh, opens the door himself. I reach for his hand, silently asking for him to be okay with this. Cato just slips through my grip, "See you later, Clove." He says gruffly, and I am left alone in my doorway.

.

I'm relaxing on my porch at sunset, the only time in District Two in June when the sun is not scorching. Waiting for Cato and Cassie, I twirl my knife in one hand, sipping flavored tea from the local market in the other, I am almost at peace.

Fellow victors walk by, and I nod to most and go as far as saying hello to others. Before I became a Victor of my own right, when I still lived in my mother's house, I never talked to these victors. I idolized them from afar, sure- but I think a part of me was also a little intimidated by them.

Slowly but surely, I've gotten to know these people. Not for how many kills they accumulated, or their weapon of choice, but in their own right.

Sparta Gibbs, victor of the 51st Games, has a long scar down the side of her face and looks menacing on a good day. Nonetheless, she always pays the local children way too much to water her garden.

Hal Jefferson, victor of the 69th Games and the most recent victor aside from me and Cato, always goes to the market late in the day to buy up as much of the day's surplus as he can. He insists that he's just a shopaholic, but we all know that he does it to help out the less fortunate merchants.

I wave at the Corinthians, a pair of elderly brothers who won sometime before the 1st Quarter Quell in back to back years. They're nice old men, and when I watch them play chess on their porch, it's like none of us were ever in the arena.

Lyme strides up to my house. "Evening, Feldspar. Nice job in training today. Those kids almost look like they're in shape now."

I accept her compliments like I always have, with a strong nod. I expect her to go on her way, but she leans on the porch railing.

"I got word from the Capitol today. They've been postponing it, but you and Cato's Victory Tour will be in three weeks," she announces, almost regretfully.

Although I keep my face straight, my body uncontrollably shudders.

Lyme looks at me sympathetically, "It's a bit chilly out, isn't it?" It's far from chilly, but I am grateful for the excuses she makes for me. "Yeah, a little cold."

"Well, it's my responsibility to prepare the two of you a little bit, so tell Cato to come over with you tomorrow night, understand?" Lyme gives me a purposeful look, and speaks slowly.

I bite my lip, getting that familiar feeling that something bigger is going on. "Alright," I agree. She studies me, and I blink back at her, telling her that I got the message.

Satisfied, she leaves. I half-heartedly sip at my tea, nowhere near as peaceful now that the prospect of another brush with the Capitol looms near.

.

I step out of the shower, momentarily relaxed from the hot steam.

Suddenly, I hear a sound from downstairs. I remember I forgot to lock the front door. The possibility of an intruder immediately springs me into action. Instantly, my eyes flick around for a potential weapon.

Toothbrush? No, the flimsy plastic would break after one good jab, and the dull edges couldn't even be used as a shank.

Mouthwash? No, I'd have to be really close to the intruder to get it into his eyes.

I grasp a heavy, ceramic cup by the handle, and I break it in half by cracking it against the sink. It's now jagged and sharp, and the best I can do for now.

As I silently creep down the stairs, I realize it's probably just Cato, returning from putting Cassie to bed after the movie. My shoulders loosen.

But the intruder downstairs is being far too loud to be Cato sneaking into my house. I can hear them _breathing- _even Cato's not that sloppy. I cock my head, and determine that the noise is coming from my living room.

I flip into the room, guns blazing, ceramic mug at the ready-

Cato's sprawled out on the couch next to my armchair. His feet dangle off the armrest, and he breathes deeply through his mouth. Leave it to Cato to sneak into my house, presumably to scare me, and then fall fast asleep.

I lower my improvised weapon, oddly disappointed. I contemplate waking up Cato with me standing over him with a sharp knife. He'd probably piss his pants- teach him a lesson about falling asleep on me.

It is getting pretty late though. Usually Cato and I head up to bed together, and watch more recaps until we fall asleep. I'm about to jostle him awake when I get a good look at his face. His brow is smooth and nightmare-free, which I know is a precious commodity nowadays. Do I really want to rob him of a peaceful sleep?

Sighing, I go to fetch him a blanket or a pillow or something. In one of the closets, I find a woolen cover. I shake it out, relieved when dust doesn't come flying out. Haltingly, I approach Cato with arms stretched out wide. Do I just toss it to him? _Don't you dare tuck him in, Clove. _

As I I'm contemplating how to give Cato the blanket without looking like some doting girlfriend. Even in the dark, I glower at the word. _Girlfriend. _

He's asleep, he won't even notice the difference, I tell myself. But as I drape it over his sleeping body, Cato does rouse himself.

"…Are you tucking… me in?" He mumbles sleepily, fatigue slurring his words together. Regardless, I swear I hear amusement in his voice.

Caught, I freeze in the darkness. Maybe if I make a run for it now, he'll chalk it up to a dream. Weighing my options, I am just about to bolt when he teases, "I don't need a blanket if you'll keep me warm instead, Princess." His come-on loses some of its potency when he's forced to hide a yawn mid-sentence.

I snort, not bothering to hide an entertained smile from stretching onto my face in the darkness. "As if," I shoot back. A laugh escapes from my lips as I whip the blanket in a bundle at his face. "Go back to sleep, lazy."

.

After I've settled into bed, practically willing myself to be able to sleep without Cato, he sneaks in. I partially sit up, leaning on one of my elbows. In his half-asleep state, he's slung the blanket haphazardly over his shoulders. His hair's getting a little long, and flattened and spiked in the most random way possible. He's attempting to take of his pants smoothly, but his leg gets caught in them, and he stumbles out of them.

Never one to hold back, I snort unattractively. Cato whips his head to me.

"Nice of you to show up, lazy." I tease.

"Not lazy…" he mutters.

I scoot over on the bed, making room for him. "Mmmm right."

"I came up here, didn't I?" He points out stubbornly, rousing himself slightly.

"You're right, Cato. You're not lazy. You're just 'scawed of the dawk'." I mock in a little baby voice.

Despite the dark, I can see him stiffen. "I'm not scared of anything." His suddenly aggressive voice carries the warning signs of one of his famous rages.

Alarmed at the sudden change in mood, I realize I've stepped on a nerve. "Right. Sorry, Cato."

But that just seems to make him angrier. "Don't do me any favors, Clove." He swallows noisily, "I know I'm a coward." And just like that, Cato deflates into another broken victor.

My heart aches a little at what he must be feeling. I can't even begin to imagine what he's thinking right now.

We victors understand each other, but we all cope and struggle in our own ways.

Lyme teaches and protects the trainees. She knows it'll never be enough though, and it kills her.

Brutus indulges in prostitutes and debauchery, but it can't possibly mask the guilt I know he feels for killing his own district partner in the final showdown.

Hal, who seems perfectly fine at first glance, has scars on his wrists that can only be self-inflicted.

Even my mother, the unbreakable Atlanta Goodridge, is paranoid and shuts out her two daughters.

We're all pretty screwed up, I guess. Being a victor in District Two means that there are plenty of people who can empathize with you. Even the cruelest of Careers need a safe haven, and the Village here has knitted itself into a ragtag, dysfunctional family. It must be terrible for Haymitch Abernathy over in District Twelve, with just him in his Village. Every day, I privately thank the universe that I have such a support system, and Cato. I don't know what I would have done without him.

And now's the chance for me to return the favor. "Cato." I whisper, sitting up completely and moving to the edge of the bed. "You're not a coward." I open my arms, and he falls to his knees and into my embrace. His head rests on my collarbone, and I automatically begin to stroke his hair. I don't even question it- when Cato needs me; I throw away all my inhibitions.

"You're the bravest man I know. " I whisper fiercely. "You have to believe that." We stay like that for a while, and I try to overlook the shocks of pleasure I feel when his breath fans over my breasts. _Keep it together, Clove. _

Cato slowly lifts his eyes up to meet mine. I ignore that my own breath has become labored. "You have to believe that." I repeat in a soft voice. What Cato needs now is a shoulder to lean on, not a warm body.

Of course, he chooses that moment to kiss me hard right on the mouth.

.

At first, I try to be the rational one. "Cato." I say between kisses, as we crawl into the bed while attached at the lips. "Cato, stop." My mouth says stop, but my body is urging him on.

"Cato." I breathe as I wrap my arms around his neck. "Cato, it's late."

"I love it when you say my name like that," he murmurs heavily as he places hot, wet open-mouthed kisses down my neck, completely ignoring my half-hearted attempts to stop him. I whimper a little in pleasure, and his hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb grazing my jaw.

I slide my hands down the back collar of his shirt, fingers relishing in the warm muscles between his shoulder blades.

Our legs tangle with the sheets, and he shifts so he's mainly on top of me. The pressure of his chest keeps my body pressed tightly to the mattress, but he keeps most of his weight braced on his two knees, one of which is wedged between my legs.

Right as my breath hitches when he places a kiss dizzyingly close to the most sensitive part of my breast, he stifles a yawn.

I am torn between continuing and letting Cato getting the sleep he desperately needs. I'm selfish, and it takes me longer to decide than I'm proud of. Cato's hand is wandering up my stomach, pushing my shirt up along with it, and it all makes me feel like I'm weightless, like Cato's warm body is the only thing preventing me from blowing away. It's as if I'm jumping off that waterfall again with him, except that instead of being scared, I'm relishing every minute of it.

But Cato's well-timed second yawn makes my decision for me. "I didn't know I was so boring to kiss." I pout as we break away from another long kiss.

"No Clove, far from it. You're so intense that I tire easily," he replies easily, fingers continuing their lazy path along my breasts.

That makes me chuckle shakily. "Nice save, but it's time to go to sleep."

He shakes his head and continues his ministrations on my collar bone. I lose my breath for a second, but I slap his face lightly. "Come on. We'll pick up where we left off tomorrow."

With that promise, Cato slowly climbs off of me. My legs are slightly numb from his weight, so I flex my legs to regain feeling in them. My thigh accidentally rubs his inner thigh, and he groans, "You're giving me mixed signals here, Clove."

I feel bad that he'll probably have to go to sleep horny, but it's not like it's any easier for me. "You need your sleep though. And you're so intense that I tire easily," I repeat his words in a low, grumbling imitation of his voice.

He breathes a sleepy laugh, "You're a tease, Clove Feldspar. You shut me down so quickly, my crotch practically _hurts_."

His unpolished talk makes me flush a little bit. "Cato, you're a big boy. I think you can handle it."

He doesn't reply, and his breathing becomes soft and slow. I wiggle next to him into a more comfortable position. I finally settle on my stomach, my head turned on the pillow to face Cato.

Cato's blue eyes are silver in the dark, watching me. "I'm scared of the dark when you're not next to me," he admits.

That makes my heart flutter a little bit, but I still shake my head in disagreement. Tossing my arm so that it rests on his chest, I whisper, "I wish you would believe me."

Cato doesn't agree with me, but he finally falls asleep. I think the content feeling that I get when his face eventually relaxes is what they call love.

But before I drift into a dreamless slumber, I remember that the Victory Tour starts in a few weeks, and we'll have to return to the Capitol soon. He's fast asleep, but my hand finds his under the sheets anyways and squeezes it tight.

.

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So… thoughts? I had a hard time portraying Cato and Clove as a new couple without them getting unrealistically sappy… tell me if you thought I did a good/bad job! I tried to make it a point that Clove is pretty self-conscious and hesitant, but is willing to throw her inhibitions away when Cato is in danger. It's really sickly sweet, but I think it's something she'd definitely do. Also, do you have any thoughts on what Lyme's meeting will be about? It's pretty obvious, but I'm open to any new suggestions.

**Please review!** If you have the time, check out my new one-shot Goodnight and Goodbye, and tell me what you think of that as well! I really appreciate the support. Thanks!


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: ****I'm SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO sorry. First semester of senior year is death. And I had to rewrite this chapter like five times because it affects the plans I have for the rest of this story. And for the last month, my account has been acting up and I haven't been able to upload this. **

**I completely understand if you all hate me. It's been months. But I tried to make this chapter worth the wait (a lot of things happen). I highly suggest re-reading the earlier chapters, even though it's probably not completely necessary to get up to speed. **

**Again, I'm really sorry. Expect another chapter in the next week or so, my schedule's remarkably clearer now that college applications are in. Please review though, that's what gave me the final push to finally update- your wonderful reviews!**

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**Chapter Eleven**

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I wake up the next morning abruptly, shaken by the image of President Snow's challenging eyes. I remember the Victory Tour, and Lyme's meeting today.

But then I remember who's next to me, whose hand I'm still firmly gripping onto. I need to tell Cato about all this. He doesn't even know that the Victory Tour is in three weeks.

I slowly let go of his hand, and wait for him to wake up.

I wait, sitting on the bed with my legs crossed.

I wait some more, practicing my knife twirling.

Finally, I noisily rustle the bed sheets and kick him hard in the hip.

He wakes up suddenly, and I quickly resume a neutral position. Cato glares at me, and I blink at him innocently. "Morning, Princess," he rasps at me, his voice still scratchy with sleep.

I take a good look at him and am slightly taken aback at how attractive I find him right now, with his rough voice, ruffled hair and wrinkled shirt. I lick my lips before I tease, "It's about time you woke up, lazy."

"Hate to break it to you Clo, but you snore- it's a miracle I even got any sleep at all."

My face flushes red before I can help myself. I turn away, making to get out of bed. "I don't know what you're talking about." Before I can get out though, Cato pushes me onto the bed.

"Not so fast, Clove. You promised that we'd pick up where we left off, remember?" He starts to nibble down my neck before he stops. "And you definitely snore."

I laugh breathlessly before it gets caught in my throat. As I lay soft-boned and pliant under him, Cato has worked his way down my body. His hot tongue tracing patterns into my collar bone has got me much more worked up than expected. I feel flustered, and my mind is working in over drive- I barely reciprocate at all. But Cato has taken matters in his own hands and pushed up my shirt completely, leaving my chest completely exposed. My hands stop running through his hair, and I start to fidget self-consciously.

Cato's stopped too. His eyes run over my body, from my flushed face to my chest- back and forth. Why does he keep staring? I start to cross my arms over my chest, but he brushes my arms away, intent on studying me. I wrap my hands around his waist under his shirt, fingers slowly feeling every inch of his sculpted back. I pull Cato tight against my body, hoping that he'll stop staring when more of our skin is touching.

I pull him close, but he keeps his body up, propping his elbows up on both sides of my head, pinning my hands above my head at the same time. "Cato," I order. "Stop staring."

He shakes his head, stubborn as ever. "Clove," he whispers slowly. "You're gorgeous." His eyes widen as I push my chest out in a misguided effort to free my arms. He grins down at me superiorly, "You know struggling only makes it worse."

He's teasing me, he always teases me. Our relationship is so disorienting- do people typically harass each other when they're in bed together? Is it strange that I wouldn't have it any other way?

Cato finally stops heckling and rolls off me. I am left with tingling lips and wonder how in the world Cato and I got here.

I have always been the clever, sharp one- more of a partner in crime than a love interest for Cato. When I got chosen to compete with Cato in the 74th Hunger Games, I expected to feel some sort of emotion but was prepared to squash it down to survive. When we got to the Capitol, I was shocked by how miserable I secretly was- it was much stronger than I expected. And then Cato kept trying to kiss me, and I didn't have the willpower to fight him like I probably should have. I let myself get swept up in everything. When he suddenly distanced himself during the Games from me in favor of Glimmer, I felt a more poisonous anger than I had ever experienced: jealousy. Cato was _mine_.

The night of the trackerjackers, watching Glimmer and Cato snuggle, I vowed to keep my emotions in check so I could get out alive. I was determined to disregard my lingering affections for this callous boy. If he ignored me, why shouldn't I forget about him?

Of course, that same night, Cato dragged me to safety after I had fallen asleep.

I didn't know how I felt about that, being saved by someone I was determined to kill at some point. So I held him at a distance, even when I secretly wanted to spend however much time we had left together on good terms.

But a few days later, I was granted a wish I wasn't even aware I had. I could go home with Cato. He pulled me into his arms as I struggled against him, until I finally relented and relaxed into his comforting arms. _We're going home together or I'll die trying, _he whispered with his lips brushing against my cheek once when he thought I was asleep.

And ever since then, we've been struggling with this magnetic pull to each other. I've never been lucky- my dad died when I was a kid, my mother was absent my whole life, and I have been trained my entire life to kill children. But here, with Cato, I feel like the luckiest girl alive.

.

"You're beautiful, Clo," Cato whispers now, and I'm drawn out of my reverie. I smile at him before pushing him onto his back. I crawl on top of him and kiss him fiercely. Our teeth scrape together in some sort of beautiful chaos, and his tongue pries into my mouth to wreak havoc on my senses. I move against him in an agonizingly perfect slow rhythm, attempting to show him how lucky we are to have each other.

I moan when his arms wrap around my waist and his hand creeps to cup my bottom. "This is nice," he says when I pry my lips off his own.

"Cato," I whisper as I burn under his blue gaze. "What are we?" I roll my eyes as his hand sneaks under the waistband of my shorts to trace the perimeter of my lace underwear. "Stop feeling me up and focus."

"It's sort of hard with you on top of me," he informs me gruffly. I quirk my eyebrows and move to get off him, but he only holds me tighter to him. "Alright, alright. Well, we're…" He bites his lower lip in concentration, and I unconsciously lick my lips as I watch the motion. He catches me and smirks, "Who needs to focus now?"

"Hey, shut up." What exactly are we? We tease each other too much to be considered lovers, are too entwined and involved to be simply be girlfriend and boyfriend, and like kissing each other too much to be just friends. "You haven't answered my question yet."

It stumps him like it did the last time I asked the question a few days ago. "Because I don't know, okay?" He idly strokes my bare skin. "We're just…. us. We just... are."

I snort at his less than clear answer. But I kind of like that we're on the same page of mutual confusion at least. Cato and I, we just are. I spare a glance at the clock until I realize that it's way later than I realized.

"Shit," I yelp. "Get up, we've got to go to Lyme's in like five hours and I haven't eaten in like 15 hours."

He huffs and releases me from his hold. "Why is that?" He sits up and then clenches his jaw. "Fuck, my head hurts like a bitch."

I hazard him a glance as I yank my shorts to their proper position on my hips. "The Victory Tour… it's scheduled to start in three weeks." Maybe there's some painkillers somewhere around the house.

Cato's shoulders tense up at the prospect of getting mixed up with the Capitol again. I place a comforting hand on his shoulder as he sits at the edge of the bed. It was an effort to calm him, but it only seems to aggravate him further. Cato shoves my hand away, and I realize that he is angry with _me_. "And why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

I blink at him, confused. For once, I haven't done anything wrong yet. "What? Didn't tell you which part?"

"-Any of it! I know you think that you're so much smarter than me. You think I'm an idiot, but I still deserve to know." Cato pushes off the bed and stormily crosses the room to pull on his pants. Something is wrong.

"Does your head hurt?" I ask suspiciously. Sometimes my temper has flared for no reason as well after the Games. One minute, I'm fine. The next, I have bitten a hole into my cheek in frustration at my stubbornly messy ponytail and ripped out several locks of my own hair.

"Yeah, but don't pretend you care about that either. You just keep worrying about yourself, Princess."

"Cato!" I'm frustrated at his conceitedness and am thrown for a loop at the sudden change in mood. "I just forgot to tell you last night, okay? I didn't not tell you on purpose- not everything I do is about you!" I feel completely ambushed- our last fight was less than a day ago, and Cato's picking a fight with me again.

But this is different, this is not the teasing and bickers we usually get into. No, there is undeniable spite laced into each word that Cato hurls at me.

"You're right! It's never about me! No matter how I feel about you, how honest I am with you, you always only think of yourself. We're supposed to be a team, but you can't even bother with me! It's always about you, you, you-" In his anger, Cato has hit a sore topic. It's something I've had to deal with all my life: having my mother's killer instincts along with my father's heart. I'd say that my mother won out- I am a trained assassin after all, but I can never win - I'm always too heartless or too sentimental. "You're selfish, and-"

How can he think that? I have to tell myself that this isn't really Cato, that he would never say these things to me if it weren't for his traumatic experiences in the Games. I stare at Cato from across the room, an impossibly large distance between us. I whip the sheets off me and storm up to stand nose to nose with him. "You need to calm down, asshole."

I would ordinarily have given someone a black eye for yelling at me. I am an aggressive person- I am the one to start fights. But Cato has always gotten away with things with me, for one reason or another. And this has been the case even more so after the Games- because I understand what he is feeling right now. What it feels like to have uncontrollable anger rack your body for no real reason. To feel the buzzing in your skull, to get the urge to lash out, just to relieve the pressure in your chest.

"Leave Cato," I order. "Before you say something you regret." I can see the turmoil in his eyes behind the anger and wrath.

Eyes flashing, and chest heaving, he does.

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I knock on Lyme's familiar door. She answers quickly and ushers me in almost urgently. She leads me to an unfamiliar room, one that I have never seen in all my years training with her. Cato is seated on the couch, and I stiffen. Cato and I try not to get in each other's way when we're fighting. We avoid each other until one of us gives in. Where do we stand, after I kicked him out this morning? Lyme sits in the armchair facing the couch, so I am left to stiffly seat myself next to him.

Cato is looking at me with an ingratiating look on his handsome face. I purse my lips at him and he immediately scoots over on the couch so that I can take up a majority of the free space. I sit down imperiously and give him a nod as a way of saying that all is forgiven this time.

Lyme watches this with amusement. She suddenly stands up with a knowing look on her face. "I'm going to get us all something to drink." She wants to give us some time to sort through our differences.

We watch her leave, and immediately I turn to face him again. "Calmed down yet, drama queen?"

He nods earnestly. "I don't know what came over me, Clo. I shouldn't have said those things."

A little uncomfortable with this heart-to-heart, I shift in my seat. "It's fine."

"You should have told me about this meeting the second you found out though," he points out. "I wasn't a complete idiot."

"Fine," I acquiesce. "I'm sorry too."

But Cato places his hand under my chin and forces me to look at him. The crafty bastard- he knows that he could get me to do practically anything when he looks at me with those eyes. "You have to let me in, Clo."

"I know-"

"We're a team, Clove. You take care of me, and I take care of you. It's the only way we could ever stay alive. And a team has to be on the same page."

He's right. Working as a team is our only chance of keeping the Capitol happy. As close as I am to Cato, I am not used to sharing all my inner thoughts with anyone. Frankly, dying is looking like a viable option.

I look up at him through my lashes. Even sitting down, he's still so much bigger than me. "I'll try my best," I promise softly. He smiles crookedly at me, pleased. I want to kiss him right now for how much we have both grown as people. I haven't had to resort to hitting him to resolve our problems in an admirable amount of time.

However, just as I inch closer, Lyme returns. I blush scarlet once Lyme spots what we were up to. "Keep your hands to yourself, Feldspar." Cato chuckles under his breath. Lyme's joking demeanor suddenly disappears when she seats herself in front of us. I am reminded that we are here for a reason.

"So what do we need to know about the Victory Tour?"

"This isn't about the Victory Tour exactly."

"But I thought…." Cato trails off before glaring at me, convinced that I am keeping more secrets from him.

"I thought that's what this was about!" I hiss defensively to him. "That's what she told me."

Clearing his throat, Cato asks, "Okay, then what is this about?"

Lyme cuts straight to the chase. "The Capitol is not pleased with the two of you." What have we done now?

Cato snorts dismissively. "Are they ever?"

Meanwhile, I just shake my head, "Tell me something I don't know."

"This is different. Before, they were just displeased that you defied them. And then the uprisings started, and they blamed that on you two. They weren't worried though. But these rebellions haven't been fully extinguished yet, and Snow is getting worried. You two need to be careful."

"That's not our fault! How could we be held responsible for the other districts' actions!?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Cato. But it seems the lower districts have found you two to be a symbol to rally around."

I look at her incredulously. "How could they possibly like us? We killed their tributes- we're murderers!" But I spoke too soon. I remember watching the recap video. How in our moment of desperation, Cato and I looked like something good and pure when we jumped off the waterfall- a reminder of something worth fighting for.

"In the final days of the Games, you both showed some humanity. The lower districts had long forgotten that the Careers were children too."

"So what now? What can we do to make them happy?"

Lyme shakes her head, "I don't know. Your stylists have presented you as innocent children, and it did keep the Capitol off your backs for a while. Unfortunately, it also strengthened the rebellion, seeing you two as helpless lovers. The President would probably prefer a change in public image, but the Capitolites have become quite attached to this version." She paused, "I think the only thing we can do is to keep up the same act- just know that the Capitol is on your back. I'm sure if Snow wanted to go with a different direction, we would all know it."

"So that's it," Cato clarified. "You called us here to warn of impending danger, then just tell us that there's nothing we can do to stop it?" He rolls his eyes angrily, and surprisingly, Lyme does not smack him for his indolence.

"I called you here to warn you about something else." Lyme pauses, then reluctantly, hesitantly tells us. "The president, he has found a use for us victors. If he wants a favor from someone, and if they- they are interested in a victor, he 'loans' them out for a night."

There is a long, painful silence.

"What are you trying to say?" I ask too quietly. I understand exactly what she's trying to say. I should have known that this peace was too good to last.

"He sells our bodies." The stark truth reverberates in the room uncomfortably.

I shake my head dismissively, "They can't do that to us."

"We won," Cato reminds Lyme desperately. "And- and aren't Clove and I the Capitol's sweethearts right now? They all think of us as a couple. They won't be interested in us."

Lyme closes her eyes. "The Capitol citizens have strange tastes. And they have no concern for our own feelings. Maybe your relationship will spare you for now, but I wouldn't expect it to last for long."

"So, this…this 'transaction'. How does he get the victors to agree to this?"

"Mainly threats on friends and family."

"Do all the victors go through this?" It's cruel of me to ask, because clearly Lyme has had her own experiences, but my thoughts are directed towards my mother. _You have no idea what was actually going on, _she had said. Did she mean it? Did she mean that Snow forced her into prostitution, forced her to leave me and Daddy? It must have been true, it must have killed her. And I had thrown it all in her face just to hurt her.

Lyme's hands press tightly into her lap. She clears her throat- she can't bring herself to answer. But the answer is obvious. It is clear in the haunted faces of victors, and their secluded lives, and their well-hidden shame. How did I not realize it before?

She rubs her face hard with the palms of her hands and when she emerges, Lyme looks warier than I have ever seen her. "All victors that have something worth keeping go through this," she answers. "The ones who think they don't and refuse…. well they realize how wrong they were." She pauses, "Haymitch Abernathy, for instance."

I wince. Haymitch Abernathy is the laughingstock of the Academy- the lone drunkard from District 12. Did the Capitol do that to him?

Of course they did.

"So that's it, then?" Cato says in a removed voice. "We give in and they won't kill our families."

"That's always the plan- give in. We give the Capitol everything until we die." I grit out.

Lyme exhales slowly, "Well, there is another option." When Cato and I look at her curiously, "How would you like to change your fates?"

.

For the next half hour, Lyme explains to us an underground group she is involved in. For the past ten years, she has been carefully planning the upheaval of the Capitol along with a secret group of victors, Capitol citizens, and government officials.

"Imagine a world where people choose their leaders. If they don't like their government, they change it."

It sounds far too good to be true. But as I look at Cato, I can tell that he is falling for this hook, line, and sinker. He has always been the more optimistic of the two of us.

"So what do you two think? We could use the two of you as a symbol to rally support down the line. Granted it won't be easy and it won't be safe. But I can tell that you both want to stop the Capitol. Clove?" Lyme breaks me out of my trance and waits expectantly for my answer.

It takes me to realize what she's asking. She wants me to help bring down the Capitol.

I want to say yes, so badly. The Capitol has taken so much from me. But I remember how the Command Room stayed unbreakable that night I hurled rocks at it. Then I remember Tara, and Cato, and Cassie, and my own poor, poor mother. The Capitol is here to stay, and there is still more they can take. More that they will take. Although I would love to bring them to their knees, I know the chance of that happening is very small. And I can't risk it.

"I know it's a lot to ask of you."

-And I'm so tired. My whole life, I have been trained to be a weapon. I have been used, told this and that. I don't know if anything I've been told is the complete truth. I'm just so tired.

"No," I say, while shaking my head. "I can't do what you're asking of me."

Lyme stares at me disappointedly. I guess my Career instincts have won out- self preservation and all that. "All right then. Cato?" She turns to Cato, who's been staring intently at me this whole time. I know he's going to try to convince me to join this rebellion with him.

So when he says, "No." I furrow my eyes confusedly as he continues. "I'm not going unless Clove goes. We're a team."

I knock my knee against Cato's lightly. It's a brief touch and no words are exchanged. But the sentiment is clear- even though we're both full of doubt and more scared than we're willing to admit, Cato is mine and I am his. We are bound together by something indescribable.

.

We leave quietly, absorbed in our own thoughts. I walk stiffly, my brain processing everything I have just heard. Cato wordlessly tugs me towards my house, but I shake him loose. "I'll be there in a while, I just need to…"

He follows my gaze to my mother's house. The lights are on, and we can see the silhouette of my mother in the living room. He nods, "See you in a bit."

I quietly open the front door, but my mother starts up. "Who is it?" She sees me in the doorway , and her shoulders relax.

"Mama," I whisper. "Lyme told me everything. The Capitol is evil, they can't do that- they shouldn't be able to do that." Words, apologies, confessions spill out of my mouth. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said." I stumble over to her on the couch. "I- I'm so scared. What are they going to do to me?"

My mother's arms encircle my back, and rub soothingly. Her voice trembling just the slightest, "Oh, Clove." I find comfort in my mother's arms for the first time since I can remember. And I am forgiven.

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**Please review! **


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:**** Please, I beg for your forgiveness. College decisions got in the way, but now that's done. I should be studying for APs right now, but instead I felt like I owed it to all my lovely reviewers to finally update :) Please don't kill me. **

**Thoughts, opinions, anything- Please review! I write because I love to, but you have no idea what these reviews mean to me. **

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**Chapter 12**

"Cato," I pant, "stop." He ignores me, like he always does, and I wiggle hard from under him. Of course, he takes that as encouragement and his hand brushes against my underwear. I gasp in unfamiliar pleasure but continue to struggle against him. "Cato," I grit out, "get off me." Finally, I rally all my strength and shove him off me.

He nearly falls off the bed but catches himself at the last moment. "What," he gasps, "is your problem?"

I feel my face flush. "I'm just not in the mood, okay?" I roll over onto my side and burrow my face into the pillow.

Cato settles himself next to me but doesn't try to touch me. "Really?" his voice is skeptical, but I can also hear the underlying current of hurt in it. "Clo, tell the truth," he demands.

I feel guilty and roll over to face him. His eyes, unexpectedly close, assault me. Fuck. I can't keep anything from him, can I? "Well," I hesitate. "I want to, but…" The embarrassment of admitting my own inexperience is daunting, and I choose to avoid it for as long as possible by trailing off.

"But what?" Cato is relentless. Feeling my reluctance to talk, he begins to fiddle with the ends of my hair.

The darkness of the bedroom seems like the best place to come clean- I can't see anything, and that somehow feels less intimidating. "I just…"

His blue blue eyes patiently wait for me to talk, and I blurt out, "I just haven't done any of this before, okay?"

Cato's fingers stop twirling my hair. "What do you mean?" he asks incredulously. "You mean you haven't done…. anything before?" He lets out an amazed laugh.

Humiliated, I turn away from him again and fling the covers over me. I engulf myself in the sheets, sealing the openings and somehow ending up in the fetal position. _Great, _I think as Cato tries to untangle me, _now you seem even more immature. _"Go away," I snap. "Leave me alone."

Cato continues to unravel me, but I only cling to the sheets more fiercely. Furiously, I realize he's chuckling. "Stop laughing at me, asshole!" I screech. He eventually stops trying to yank the blankets away from me. Instead, Cato's hands pull me into his lap, and he gently unfolds me from the blanket.

I grimace as I emerge from my hiding place. I'm sure my hair looks like a mess, and I just acted like a five-year old. The whole situation is embarrassing for me. I try to escape one last time, but Cato keeps a firm grip on me. He forces me to wrap my legs around his waist, so we're looking right at each other, eye to eye.

"Stop laughing," I mutter uselessly as he grins broadly at me with a curious look in his eye.

"You're just so goddamn adorable."

I am not adorable- I am a killer. Cato is an idiot, and a horny one at that. I can feel him pressing into me, not uncomfortably. I try my best not to melt into him as he absentmindedly traces soft circles on the exposed skin at my hip. I glare at him, and he tries unsuccessfully to stop chortling. He continues to chuckle intermittently though. "What," I growl, "is so funny?"

"After all this time, someone like you can still be untouched and pure," he replies. "It's unbelievable."

"Someone like you," I repeat caustically. "What could you possibly mean by that, asshole?"

"Someone as beautiful as you," he answers, and I snort disbelievingly. "I mean it," he says, running his warm, rough hands appreciatively over my curves, taking his time over my chest and my ass. "I thought for sure you'd be…. experienced."

"How?" I ask pointedly, trying to keep the self-consciousness out of my voice.

Cato shakes his head and turns my head to look at the large mirror across the room. I see the two of us reflected back. "You're so beautiful, Clove. You could get any guy you want." I focus on my features and see what he is saying. I follow his hand as he traces my features. "To me, you're the most beautiful girl in the world," he whispers as he traces my fine eyebrows, my sharp cheekbones, and my pouted lips. He takes a firm grip on my pointed chin and kisses me roughly. "Don't you ever forget it," he continues, he brushes against my trembling chest, my flat, toned stomach, and my rounded bottom. "You know you're gorgeous, right Princess? You have to know that."

And in that moment, I believe him. I do have a pretty good body from years of training and I do like my facial features. Hell, even my ruffled hair looks sultrily mussed in this lighting. I smile softly and take his bottom lip between my teeth teasingly before kissing him forcefully.

After a few heated moments, I wrap my arms tightly around his neck and press myself up against him even more if possible. Cato runs his hands up my smooth thighs, "So damn gorgeous …so fucking hot," he gasps. "How can you still be a virgin?" he asks curiously, his eyes reflecting a wolf-like hunger. "It just doesn't seem possible."

I laugh shortly, "Do you even remember what I was like back in training?" I was a short-tempered, misanthropic harpy of a girl. It was a miracle Cato even befriended me, never mind fell for me.

"I saw through that terrifying exterior," he murmured whilst pulling me closer to him by the waist. He manipulates me so easily in his arms that I feel like a fragile doll. It's a strange experience, but I trust him. "I always thought that you were something special."

"And do you still think so?" I interrupt.

He buries his hand into my hair, "Now I know it." I kiss the soft skin by his jaw softly. He continues with a hint of a smile, "And I can't believe that you're a virgin." I groan, he's still going on about that. "You're completely mine," he muses, wrapping a possessive arm around my backside. "All mine."

In turn, I tug his short hair slightly. "Unless you screw it up," I remind him sweetly yet dangerously- but deep down, I don't think I could ever bring myself to leave Cato. I place a lingering, wet open-mouth kiss on his broad shoulder, and he shudders. "Not now okay?" I ask, "When I'm ready, you'll be the first to know."

He chuckles as he strokes my back intimately, "I'd hope so."

.

The next morning, Cato and I are eating breakfast in companionable silence. Suddenly, there's a knock on the door. I'm not expecting guests, so I throw Cato a questioning look. He shrugs and continues to shovel bacon into his mouth.

I sigh and get up to see who could possibly be at the door. The intruder impatiently rings the doorbell just as I am about to open the door- only one person I know can be so irritatingly persistent.

"Hello Tara," I drawl lazily after opening the door. Before she can say a word, I turn back to the kitchen and assume that she will just invite herself in.

She does, following me to the marble table. "Good morning to you too, sunshine," she quips snarkily. She stops suddenly as she notices Cato, "Oh, hi Cato."

He looks up from his nearly empty plate, "Morning." He begins to clear up his place at the table like I have trained him to. There had been several very detailed threats made previously by me if he left his shit for me to clean up. Once he's moved his plate to the sink, he turns to go. "Bye Tara," he calls. Cato catches my eye, "See you later, Clo?"

I try to play it cool in front of Tara. "Okay," I say casually without even getting up to see him out. "Later."

Cato gives me a disparaging but knowing look and promptly leaves. I continue to twirl the butter knife in my hand as I eat some cereal casually. _Please don't bring it up please don't bring it up please-_

"-So." Tara begins with a mischievous smirk. "You and Cato."

"What about me and Cato?" I shoot back bluntly.

"He was over here pretty early…"

"Was he?" I am determined to keep my end of the conversation as short as possible.

"Yes." Tara taps her chin in mock-thought. "Maybe he….. stayed over the night?"

"Or maybe you need to mind your own damn business?" I will my face to not turn red. There's no doubt that Tara is more experienced with boys than I. I just hope that she never figures that out- but at the same time, I don't want her to know about me and Cato. The more people know, the more pressure there is for this ….. _relationship_.

I would be more than happy to stay in an impenetrable cocoon with Cato forever, away from everyone else's eyes.

"Spill Clove!" Tara squeals. It's times like these when I really see how different Tara and I are. "Is he good in bed? I bet he is." Her grin widens, "Cato's a pretty big guy- how sore are you in the morning?"

"Tara!" I yelp. "I am _not _talking about this with you." She pouts, but I am steadfast. "Besides, me and Cato's relationship is just for the Capitol's benefit." It's a weak attempt on my part to get her to butt out.

She scoffs, snatches an apple from a nearby fruit bowl, and takes a large, obnoxious bite out of it. "Please," she says crunching. "No one believes that anymore."

"Excuse me?" I raise a brow, encouraging her to elaborate.

"Don't expect me to fall for that anymore- I'm not an idiot."

"Well…" I tease.

Tara interrupts. "You and Cato are not faking for the Capitol and you haven't been for a long time. Anyone with eyes can see that."

I sputter indignantly, somehow offended. On one hand, that means that the Capitol will lay off on the both of us. But on the other, that means that people think that I'm in love with Cato. I don't know which one is worse honestly. "Just- just butt out Tara."

But she continues anyways. "He's completely infatuated with you-god knows why- and I can tell that you're crazy about him. Just make sure… just make sure he knows too, okay? He makes you happy, Clovie, and I don't want you to push him away, okay?" She ends quietly and looks hard at me.

I avoid her gaze uncomfortably. "I…. I've gotta go to training," I murmur foolishly. "Help yourself to the kitchen." With that, I sprint out of the house and leave a disappointed Tara in my wake.

.

As I commute to the Training Center, I mull over Tara's words. Are my feelings really that obvious? I was trained to be emotionless, a blank slate- how could my silly sister see straight through me?

I wonder if everyone can see through us like Tara. If that's the case, Cato and I are the only ones who haven't come to terms with our relationship. We pretend and act and ignore the truth most of the time- it's only at night when our true feelings emerge. When it's truly just the two of us.

But the next morning, like clockwork, we revert to our callous, closed-off selves- scared of being honest with one another. I had rationalized that we were trying to save face in front of our families- but it's more than that.

I can't bring myself to love Cato like I really want to. There have been times when I just want to tell him that I love him, that I just want to stay by his side forever, that his very presence brings my world into sharper colors. But every time, I don't.

For fear of rejection. Or of baring my true self to him and of him deciding that I'm not what he really wants. Or maybe of the possibility of being happy. I don't know which.

.

"You are all too inexperienced for those daggers," I snap. "So stop asking for them- you'll only castrate yourselves." I'm berating my class for pestering me for sharper knives. None of them are old enough to handle them. I choose not to mention that I'd been throwing those particular knives by the time I was nine.

What can I say- I was a prodigy.

"Okay," I sigh. "You can all leave now. See you next class."

They all drift out to the locker rooms, mumbling conspiratorially to each other. Some sneak a look back to me over their shoulders, only to find me fixing them all with a steely glare. "You're a good teacher," a voice behind me sarcastically comments.

I turn to face Cato's broad chest and tip my back to look him in the face. "Shut up," I chirp before standing on my tiptoes and pressing a kiss to his lips. As I do it, I realize how ridiculous my actions are. I'm not the kind of girl who greets her boyfriend with a kiss.

Tara's words must be getting to me.

Obviously Cato thinks the same because once I pull away, his handsome face is twisted with confusion. "What's gotten into you?"

I flush and look away. "I'm just hungry, okay? Don't pretend you didn't like it," I retort self-consciously. "What are you doing here anyways?"

"Just dropping off some more weapons…. but I brought you some food!" He whips out some of my favorite granola bars from behind him. "Now you can kiss me if you want."

I smile widely, and when I look back up at him- he has the most affectionate look on his face as he watches me, I almost blush. Instead, I crane my neck up to kiss him briefly again. "Yes," I celebrate as I snatch the bars from him greedily. I unwrap one feverishly and moan between bites, "Oh my god, _I love you_."

Realizing my slip-up, I freeze mid-bite. I slowly raise my eyes up to meet Cato's. Unfortunately, he caught my casual proclamation. A slow smirk spreads onto his face, more teasing than happy. "Do you now, Princess?" His eyes turn a molten, deep blue as he gazes down on me.

"I….. I…." My face flushes hotly. Do I? My first instinct is to deny. Deny it vehemently. But… don't I? Cato is the person I care about most in the world- somehow. For some reason that I do not know. My thoughts gravitate to him automatically unless I stop myself. I apparently can't keep my lips off him. He is the only one who can soothe me to sleep. But how much of this is just teenage hormones? How long can this entanglement of ours continue?

What happens when the Capitol forgets about us, and we're free to do as we please? Will we move on? I don't know if I can bring myself to put so much of myself into something I'm not even sure is built to last.

But at the same time, I can't help but hope that Cato stays with me forever. I don't want to imagine a day where I don't get to see his crooked grin or have his solid shoulder to lean on. _Gee Clove, that sounds a lot like love to me. _

So why can't I say it?

"It's okay, Princess," he whispers huskily, wiping a crumb off my bottom lip with his thumb. I startle at his casual yet sensual touch. "We both know you can't get enough of me." And then he pulls away, leaving me red-faced and stuttering like an idiot. He laughs, "What is with you today? First you kiss me willingly, and then you say you lov-"

I storm off to get my bag, not even bothering to argue with him. I am furious at him for teasing me about an honest mistake, for not saying it back, for putting me in this predicament in general by being so damn attractive. I stuff my things into my duffel, still eating the granola bar. Cato comes up behind me and tries to carry the bag for me.

"I've _got it_," I hiss. Most girls would swoon over the act, but I only get offended for the implication that I can't take care of myself. Cato holds up his hands in mock-surrender, but that affectionate look makes a reappearance on his face. I have to turn away before I say something I regret. Again.

We barely make it two steps before Cole accosts us. He's been awfully quiet in class since we had that talk a few weeks ago. "Wait…. wait Clove!" he hollers. He skids to a stop before me and Cato.

"Yeah?" I ask impatiently. The granola bars barely made a dent in the growing hunger in my stomach.

Cole shoots Cato a wary look. "Can I talk to you…. in private?" Cato, hearing this, shoots me a look that clearly says _seriously? -_but nevertheless he goes to wait in the lobby. Probably to admire his trophies for the umpteenth time.

I turn to face Cole. "Okay, what's up?"

He looks away sheepishly. "I've been thinking really hard about what you told me… about being different, taking the sponsors by surprise." I nod. "I think I've come up with something… it involves a shield."

The thought is intriguing. District 2 tributes are always on the offensive. Surely a Career tribute playing defense would gain some interest. But then I think about it. Not having a go-to weapon would make it hard to eliminate tributes. And lugging around a heavy shield constantly would not be wise. A tribute would have to be extremely clever to win with a shield- strategic and always two steps ahead of their competitors. "I don't know Cole…"

"Look, I know there is some tweaks I need to work out…. like the weight versus sturdiness…."

Cato _was_ talking about how he wanted to move onto something besides swords for his hobby. "I think Cato could help with that," I offer. We both peer over at Cato, who is indeed staring at the trophy collection in the lobby.

"I don't know… he scares me," he admits.

"What, and I don't?" I ask, somewhat annoyed. Cato's size automatically earns him respect, while I always had to work to intimidate people. Maybe it's just me, but I frankly don't see anything scary about Cato at all.

Cole looks embarrassed. "Well you're pretty….. it's different."

-Did he just call me pretty? What has gotten into everybody today?

"See ya, Clove!" Cole bolts for the side door, wisely fleeing before I figure out what to do. I shrug and head towards Cato.

I nudge him out of his stupor, "We can leave now."

Cato looks around to see that Cole has already left. "Who was that kid anyways? He looked familiar."

"He's one of the kids in my 10-11 class," I pause. "I think he had an older brother in your training group. Last name Aldridge?"

"Ah," he smirks. "Yeah, his brother Grant was in my group. Couldn't cut it though. He's probably a peacekeeper somewhere now."

I nod. Most of the trainees end up as peacekeepers because they aren't deemed good enough for the Games. This usually happens around the age of 15, so that Careers can get more specialized training. The competition is fierce, because every kid growing up in District 2 wants to become a Victor.

But most of them end up dead.

I shudder at the thought. Sometimes if I'm not careful, my mind wanders to close to the Games, and then I can't help but get dragged into my self-destructive thoughts. Cato thankfully distracts me by pointing out something in the trophy case. "Look, I think that's him right there."

Sure enough, I see a boy with very similar features to Cole in the trainee picture. I look more carefully and I see Cato a few seats down. He's dressed in the familiar training outfit but looks somehow so different. This picture was taken two years ago, but it feels like a completely different world. Two years ago, Cato was my training partner and nothing else. "And there's you."

"Let's find you," he drags me down a little further. "Aw, so cute." I see my 15-year old self staring back at me.

"I hardly look cute," I protest. I looked pissed, as usual.

Suddenly, he's much closer. "You looked hot." I turn around only to be pinned to the glass of the trophy case by Cato's insistent body. He leers over me, lips hovering just over mine teasingly. His hips are pressed so tight to my own that I can't think straight.

"I knew there was a reason you brought me food," I barely get out. Desire runs through me like electrical shocks, and I grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a long kiss. But then, I think of a better idea. "C'mon, I forgot to put back my training vest." I break free of his grip and tug him toward one of the training rooms.

He groans in frustration, and I have to fight to keep a smile off my face. I flick on some lights in the empty room and go to hang up my training vest. "You know, Cato," I call over my shoulder and add a subtle sway to my hips. "It's late. There's no one in the Training Center by now. We could do _whatever_ we want." I glance back at him to see if he gets what I'm saying.

Maybe I can't say what I want to say to Cato, but I sure can show him. When Cato opens his mouth to respond, I pounce on him, literally knocking him off his feet. Thankfully, the training room's floor is padded for sparring.

"Clove," he murmurs in between kisses. "What has gotten into you?"

I simply giggle and buck my hips into his. Cato's hand burns a path down my body, coming to a rest on my ass once again.

"Your ass," he breathes. "Is perfect." He tugs off my shorts urgently, and when he squeezes my ass hungrily, I gasp. Cato takes that opportunity to roughly stroke my tongue with his own. Jesus, he's good at this. I struggle to keep up, wrapping my arms around his neck tightly and kissing back fervently. My legs fall open to straddle him, and I begin to rock against his growing erection. The friction feels like heaven against me.

Cato rolls over so that he's hovering over me. "Someone's getting impatient," he teases in a sing-song voice. I growl at him, getting hot and bothered just from the sound of his voice. "I'm going to try something new now, okay?"

Right now, I would let him do anything to me. I nod eagerly, barely noticing Cato pulling my damp underwear off until-

"Oh," I gasp helplessly as his rough fingers begin to trace my opening. I can't breathe, I've never felt anything so good. I open my legs wider, "Cato, more," I beg shamelessly.

Cato obediently begins to dip his finger into me. "Shit, you're so wet for me, Clove," he coos. I squirm under his grip. Without warning, he plunges one finger into me completely.

"Cato!" I squeak. He silences me with a kiss. I pull him closer so that I can start to kiss his neck. I suck and bite at his neck while he begins to thrust his finger into me relentlessly. I buck my hips to the set rhythm, toes curling in pleasure. Just as I begin to work on leaving a hickey, he adds another finger into the mix, stretching my opening out more.

Now, I can't even think straight. As he relentlessly strokes me, I begin to get dizzy. "Oh, Cato…." I trail off, panting.

"Does this feel good, Princess?" he grunts. "Do I make you feel good?"

I let out a long, drawn out moan. "Yes." I whisper. "You make me feel good. So good." But suddenly, he stops. I sit up slightly in confusion. "Cato?" I whimper pathetically.

He grins down at me, so handsome it hurts. "Beg for it." Evil. I would normally refuse, but I can't even reason with myself right now.

I don't even know what I'm asking for right now, but I _need_ him. I shamelessly beg, "Please." I grind out in frustration, "I want you. I need you." I glare, "Now." When nothing happens, I being to restlessly and squeeze my eyes shut in frustration. "If you _ever _want to see me naked, you better-"

I am cut off by the feeling of his tongue _right there._ "Oh," I sigh again. "Mmmm, Cato. Don't stop." He carefully swirls his tongue around, brushing against a bundle of nerves that makes me blush. At first, he licks and sucks at a steady rhythm, but just as I am about to reach a peak- I can feel my breath getting more and more labored- he slows down painfully.

"Cato," I beg again. "Cato, more, faster." All sense of dignity is lost, "Cato, uh, please," I sob helplessly, my back arching away from the floor. I grab the back of his head and grind myself into his mouth. His tongue is so warm… and just as I cry in frustration, Cato picks up the pace.

Within a few seconds of me moaning and whimpering, I reach that peak. "Cato!" I scream in ecstasy before feeling myself come undone. An intoxicating warmth spreads through my body. I've never felt so good in my life. Trembling slightly, I sigh contentedly. I feel my muscles unclench and breathe heavily as if I had just run a marathon as he carefully licks me clean.

He comes back up to kiss me one last time. I can taste myself in his mouth. "That was…" I trail off, still panting.

Cato pulls my underwear and shorts back up onto my hips. "I've never eaten a girl out before. You should be honored," he casually informs me with a satisfied grin.

His crass words still embarrass me, which is silly considering what we just did. I burrow my face into his chest, "Well I guess I should be thanking you then." His fingers are still sticky with my arousal, and before I can even think about my actions, I begin to lick his hand clean.

He looks at me, bewildered, and I just stare back at him innocently as I run my tongue along his fingers. "Has anyone told you that you're extremely sexy?" His words come out a little strained.

I kiss the tip of nose just to tease him. "I think you've mentioned it once or twice before." Before anything more is said, I am cut off by the rumbling of my own stomach.

Cato chuckles lowly, "Still hungry Clo?" He gets up and extends a hand to help me up. "Let's get you home." I stand up with shaky legs, wobbly and weak from the experience I have just received.

We walk home in relative silence. I'm thinking hard. Just as we pass the train station by the entrance of Victor's Village, my hand brushes against his idly. I clasp his hand in mine, which sends tingles up my arm. I pray that he understands my actions.

He stops though and stares incredulously at our two hands. I swear I even see a blush emerge across his cheeks. Cato _never_ blushes. But his shock is short-lived. A cocky grin replaces it, "Geez, all it took was a guy going down on you?"

I slap him on the arm hard for his asinine comment, but he catches my arm before I make contact and pulls me close for a kiss. Our lips crash together and this kiss is different from the other ones. It is still rough and hard, but it's passionate and searching-

"Yoohoo! Cato! Clove! It's been too long!"

We break apart, chests heaving. No it can't be. The voice that's been haunting me for months. Oh no. I look up at Cato, truly fearful. We turn together towards the voice.

Letta comes bouncing out of the train station, wig swaying dangerously and poofy dress as foolish as always. The familiar faces appear after her: Merino, Nika, Ambrosia, Easton.

I wheel around to face Cato again, asking telepathically if we should make a run for it.

The Capitol is back in town.

.

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**PLEASE REVIEW PLEASE**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: ****Hi! This is the first chapter I've updated at a reasonable time in a very long time. Finally done with AP tests forever! I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, but tell me what you think in a review! **

**Disclaimer: Honestly, you know the drill. No Alexander Ludwig, no dice. **

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Chapter Thirteen

.

I grit my teeth as Ambrosia rips off another wax strip. Meanwhile, Nika inspects my face critically. "We're almost done," she promises. "You're actually in pretty good shape, beauty care wise."

"Oh thanks so much," I roll my eyes. I twitch impatiently in the chair, and Easton pouts.

"I'll never get your nails done if you keep squirming like that!" That threat is enough for me to sit as still as possible, even though staying still is the last thing I want to do. Ever since the prep team arrived last week, there have been nonstop preparations for the Victory Tour.

Letta has been planning the climactic District Two Celebration for once Cato and I return from making our rounds around Panem. Enobaria and Brutus have been on public relations duty, figuring out how exactly Cato and I are going to present ourselves to the Districts. Honestly, I just want to get this all over with. Being showcased in the eleven other districts will be awkward at best, but probably downright miserable as well. After a week of planning speeches, we were finally allowed to leave on our Tour.

Every year, the Victor of the most recent Hunger Games is carted off from district to district, supposedly for celebratory purposes. After visiting the other districts, there is a grand ball in the Capitol, which is televised across Panem. Thankfully, unlike the Hunger Games, it's not mandatory viewing.

This year, since there are two Victors, people are making an even bigger fuss over the Victory Tour and Ball. Instead of spending only two days in each District, Cato and I will be forced to spend at least _four_. Calculate in travel time and the Ball, and I won't be back in District Two for another two and a half months.

I sigh as I cast a look as we speed out of District Two. I will miss my mother- and maybe even Tara. Thank God I have Cato, otherwise I don't know what I would do with myself.

"Alright, done!" Easton chirps. "You can go eat dinner now!" I hop out of the chair enthusiastically and finally get a chance to look at myself in the mirror. The prep team has given me the full beauty treatment: waxings, hair infusions, skin exfoliations. "Don't get too excited," he calls behind me. "This is only the base treatment."

I groan and go to pull something out of the closet. Merino has prepared an extensive wardrobe for me to wear these next few months. Since I'll be in the public eye constantly, she gets to control exactly what I wear. She had informed me that with a rather demonic look in her eye, but as I survey my options, it's not too bad. The clothes are all a little tighter than comfortable, but overall, it's my style.

I put on a pair of gray leggings and a soft white sweater. Since it is almost November, I also pull on some long leather boots to keep my feet warm. Furrowing my brow, I turn to check out the back of the sweater and realize that a large panel of it is missing so that it showcases my slim waist and toned back. Because of course the Capitol isn't happy unless I'm baring my skin. I contemplate changing but am interrupted.

"Keep it on, I like it," commands Cato as he watches me from the doorway. The way he's leaning against the doorframe makes me think that he's been there for a while.

"Did you watch me change, you perv?" I demand. Even though he's admittedly seen most of my body by now, I'm still not completely comfortable with the emerging sexual aspects of our relationship.

He grins crookedly at me, "Relax Clo, I didn't see any of the good parts. Maybe lock the door next time though." His eyes brush over my exposed back idly, "You should keep that sweater on."

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" I retort. Nevertheless, I close the closet door and walk to stand next to him. I let his arm wrap around my waist and his fingers begin to stroke at the bare skin absentmindedly. Sighing into his touch, I lean my head against his chest.

He begins to steer me towards the dining car to eat. I walk beside him, still wrapped up in his embrace. The top of my head reaches his chin, so I have the perfect angle to lazily press kisses to his neck. I giggle as he shoves me against the wall of the hallway and guide his hands to caress my breasts through the delicate sweater. He handles them roughly, and I dissolve into incoherent moans.

Suddenly, the door to the dining car flings open. "Stop it, you two. Save the lover bit for the cameras," Enobaria snidely teases as she catches us. I jump from my reverie and flush as I see at least ten other faces looking back at us. Since our Victory Tour is the one leading up to the Quarter Quell _and_ we have two victors, more previous victors have joined us on the Tour. Instead of just our mentors Brutus and Enobaria, Lyme, Hal and Sparta have joined us as well. I give silent thanks that my mother couldn't come because she had to watch Tara. I don't think I could have handled it if she had somehow caught me and Cato making out. My mind flashes back to the Training Center last week, and I flush again.

Cato and I break apart, and I already miss his touch. Which is kind of pathetic, really. Flustered, I shuffle to my seat, trying to will the aching in between my legs to abate. Cato strides in after me, completely unfazed. I hate how he affects me so much more than I do him. We both sit down and begin to dig into the hearty array of food for us. I tune out all conversation and simply enjoy the sumptuous Capitol food. I reach for buttered garlic rolls, crackling roast duck, rich mashed potatoes with savory gravy. I begin to slurp down some noodles sautéed with herbs and spices when I realize someone is calling my name.

"Huh?" I look up and realize that once again everyone is staring at me. I blink at them before hurriedly swallowing my food. Cato snorts with laughter as I swipe at the noodle stuck to my chin. I glare at him before turning back to Letta.

She gives me and my antics a disgusted look before continuing. "We will be arriving in District Twelve late tomorrow, so get as much rest as you can. The day after we all have to be up bright and early for the speech!" I groan inwardly. At least I have a day and a half more of rest and relaxation. If you can call being trapped on a 400 km/hour train with Letta rest and relaxation.

Cato butts in, "I've always wondered why Victory Tours are done in order of district number. Geographically, wouldn't it make more sense for us to start with District Four and work our way in with a spiral?" Cato's clearly a lot more knowledgeable about the Victory Tour than me. He's also way better at geography and history than me, so I just listen.

Letta sniffs, "We do it by tradition. And traditionally, Victory Tours are done by descending district number." She's clearly done with the subject because she primly picks up her fork and knife and begins to cut her food into miniscule pieces. I catch Cato's eye and shrug.

After I scrape up the last remaining dribbles of apple soufflé and caramel, I sit back and sigh contentedly. Cato and I are the last ones left at the table because collectively we packed away about a third of the food. I languidly turn my head to watch Cato stuff one final bit of chocolate cake into his mouth.

I feel the aftereffects of overeating creeping over me. "Bed?" he asks, with a hint of a smile in his exhausted voice. I nod and lethargically stumble to my room, dragging him along behind me. I swing open the door and drop his hand. Yawning, I debate about whether or not to get changed into my pajamas. Ultimately, I give in and collapse face down on the bed.

Cato softly shuts the door and sits down next to me. "Clove," he soothes. "You can't go to sleep like that."

"You're not the boss of me," I sleepily point out, refusing to budge.

"That can't be comfortable. C'mon, just go change."

"Nooooo," I grumble. "Make me."

Cato stops for a moment. For a minute, I think I've won- I hear him taking off his clothes and the thump of his belt hitting the floor. The next minute, his warm lips are close to my neck. "Maybe I will then." I feel him starting to tug my boots off, and I kick my legs just to be difficult. He chuckles, "Princess, I'm trying to help you." I obediently stop moving so that he can take off both of my leather knee-high boots. I go rigid when I feel his large hands on my waist. Cato flips my body over with ease so that I'm lying on my back next to him. He is shirtless and clad only in boxers, and I perk up at the sight. I lick my lips and feel the increasingly familiar urge in the pit of my stomach. Cato is far, far too attractive for his own good.

"What- what are you doing now?" His fingers pull at my leggings so that they slide down my legs, and I lock my eyes on him breathlessly. As they inch down my legs, I watch his sinewy muscles in his arm and torso hungrily. I take in his handsome face in concentration. Breathlessly, I'm left in only some skimpy panties and completely overwhelmed. "I knew you had an ulterior motive," I mumble.

He chuckles as he tosses the pants over his shoulder. "Of course." Surprisingly, he doesn't linger on my bare legs and continues. The sweater is pulled over my head slowly, leaving me in my bra and underwear. Cato touches the lace of my bra lightly, "I like this a lot, Princess." I shiver from a combination of his erotic touch and the cold room. "Here," he hands me his undershirt, a white cotton t-shirt, and I pull it over my head obediently. Of course, it's huge on me- the edge of the shirt hits my mid-thigh and it keeps slipping off my shoulder. But I am now enveloped by Cato's reassuring scent and his intoxicating cologne, so I don't quite feel the need to complain. We burrow under the covers, fumbling around in the darkness. I'm not used to sleeping in a bra, so I shift restlessly in an effort to find a comfortable position.

After a while, Cato sighs and slips his hand under the shirt around the back. He struggles for a second with the clasp, but finally unhooks it. "You're ridiculous," he reprimands.

"Oh, like you hated getting the chance to take off my clothes," I shoot back.

While I slip off the bra, he takes the opportunity to palm my breasts. I moan lazily and discard the bra over the side of the bed. His hands deftly massage my breasts, and his thumb roughly flicks my sensitive nipple. The skin-on-skin contact is heavenly. I roll onto him to straddle him and begin to move wantonly against him. "I thought you wanted to go to sleep," he teases.

I shrug and weave my fingers through his hair, "I want _you_ too, though." I lick my lips and look away shyly, "So much, Cato."

Cato grins up at me, watching me roll my hips into his. His blue eyes gleam in the dark, drinking in my disheveled appearance. "You're gorgeous, Clove Feldspar."

I scoff. I'm wearing an oversized t-shirt and probably still have food on my face. "You're full of shit." Something about this moment feels so intimate and precious, I want to be memorialized. For a brief second, I want Cato to take me on this bed. But he's tired, and I'm tired…

-I want the first time to be when we both have lots of energy- I shake my head, embarrassed by my own lecherous thoughts.

I roll off of him and curl up into his side instead. "No I mean it!" he insists. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He yawns, "Promise."

"You loooove me," I whisper singsongingly into his ear.

Cato grunts in response, already half-comatose. He winds a comforting arm around my waist, "Go to sleep, Clove." I smile- and for once, I listen to him.

.

I wake up early the next morning, shifting around and realizing that Cato is no longer next to me. Figuring he is getting something to eat again, I shuffle to my closet to get dressed. I regretfully take off Cato's soft shirt and scrounge for something remotely comfortable of my own. After finally finding a loose-fitting long sleeve shirt, I pull it on. As I admire the fine cloth- from District Eight for sure- I spot a movement in the bay window.

Suspicious, I fling it open to the brisk morning air. Cato stands by the railing, idly watching the trees rush by. I catch a glimpse of glistening ocean- are we by District Four? It makes me a little sad that I don't know anything about the other districts or Panem at all. All I know is Two and the Hunger Games.

And how to kill. I shiver and blame my bare feet.

"It's a new day," he observes, nodding at the rising sun.

I lean against the railing as well, "Well observed, genius." I grin at him, expecting some sort of reaction. Instead, Cato continues to stare broodingly off into the distance. My smile drops, "Cato, what's wrong?"

"I can't do this anymore."

My heart stops for a second. "Do….. do what anymore?" I ask in a small voice. The sinking feeling in my stomach knows what he's talking about though. I was so stupid to think that this could last. That's why all the alone time I spend with Cato feels too good to be true.

"Any of it anymore," he sighs. I furrow my brow. This conversation isn't about me and him. I sigh relievedly.

But something about his voice makes me think that I should still be worried. "Cato, what are you saying?" He doesn't respond. "Talk to me," I order.

The wind rushing past us is so fast that I can barely hear his voice, even from a few inches away. "What are we doing?"

I answer haltingly, "We're….. going on the Victory Tour?" I'm not sure what he's getting at, and that frustrates me.

"And then?"

"Well, we'll go back to Two. Except when we have to go to the Capitol to mentor and for parties and whatever else they drag us back for." I grimace at the thought.

"And then?" he prompts.

I think for a moment, and the whipping of the wind fills the silence. I come up with nothing. "And then…. that's it, okay? What else is there?" The realization that this is our life from now on is upsetting- something that I've tried to avoid thinking about.

Cato's face drops to his hands. "Exactly. This is our life now, Clove. I used to think that winning the Hunger Games was everything, that afterwards my life would be complete. But I just….. I just feel so empty." He turns to face me, "The only time I ever feel anything anymore is when I'm with you- but even you're not free. The Capitol owns you too." I smile painfully at his words and raise my hand to stroke his hair soothingly.

He lets my fingers run through his hair while he thinks. His eyes are distant though. When he finally speaks up again, his voice sounds broken. "We're all just stories in the end, Clove. I want my life to mean something. I can't go on living at the beck and call of those bastards."

Suddenly, I understand what he's getting at. I abruptly drop my hand from his hair and step back. "You want to join the rebellion." It's not a question, just a shocked statement.

Cato senses my horror and grabs my hand urgently with both of his. "Clove, the time is right- I can feel it. We could do it."

I shake my head fiercely. "Cato- it's dangerous. I can't- I can't…. not after we almost died in the Games." How can he even begin to think about the glory of overthrowing the Capitol? We were just in the games a few months ago- he knows how easily the Capitol could bring us down. "We need to focus on staying alive right now," I say firmly.

"I don't_ feel _very alive right now."

Anger flares in my stomach. "Why can't you just be happy with what you have?" All this talk of having his life mean something had struck a chord. I think about how content I had felt last night. He obviously doesn't feel the same, and that hurts me more than I want to admit. "-you have me- why aren't I enough for you?!"

But my question comes out sounding immature and selfish. I clear my throat and try again. "Think about Cassie- how the Capitol could come for her in retaliation." His shoulders drop in surrender. "Think about us," I continue quietly. "The Capitol wouldn't stop until they tear us apart, one way or another." I lace my fingers through his. "Think about us," I coax.

He sighs dejectedly. "You're all that I think about, Clo. You and Cassie- I want to….. I need to keep you two safe." He murmurs into my hair, "You deserve to be free from them." His eyes are bright blue as they stare into me. "You're so precious to me, Clove, more precious than you'll ever know."

Cato is wrong though- I've never felt so loved or cherished in my whole entire life. I'd walk to the ends of the earth for this boy, and in this moment, I know we're on the same page. I look up at him, mind working furiously. I'm no good with words.

Instead, I pull him to me for a deep kiss. His tongue parts my willing lips easily, and I slant my mouth against his. Cato cups my face with his two hands then runs them through my loose hair. I sigh against his mouth and move my lips against his feverishly. I kiss him hard on the mouth, pouring all my fears and frustrations and emotions into his heavenly mouth. After a few minutes, we break apart, panting for breath.

Cato tucks some of my hair behind my ear. "I want to keep you safe from them." I frown, but he continues nevertheless, "I can't let them steal you away from me. Not after everything we've been through."

So that's what this is about. I can't blame him for the way he feels- as Careers, we're trained to always be on the offensive, to never let the enemy even have a chance to attack. Ever since the Games though, I've been wary of my killer instincts and ashamed of who I was. But maybe… maybe it's time for the old Clove to make a reappearance. I have something worth fighting for now, after all.

I crane my neck to look him dead in the eye. "I don't need you to keep me safe. We're a team, remember?" I sigh, "We'll talk to Lyme together about it. No promises though." We stand there in silence for a while, watching the new day rise before us.

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